


Watership

by Shiisiln



Series: Cyberpunk Bunnies [1]
Category: Watership Down - Richard Adams
Genre: F/M, Humanized animal characters, M/M, Non-canon couples, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 69,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiisiln/pseuds/Shiisiln
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thousands of years ago, a nuclear disaster laid waste to the earth. Humanity retreated underground, building bunkers and tunnels to keep themselves safe from the harsh environment and dangerous, mutated creatures that roamed the lands.</p><p>Hazel lives in one such bunker, taking care of his little brother Fiver. When Fiver starts having premonitions of disaster, the two of them and a small band of friends leave to search for a new place to call home.</p><p>The road is long and harsh, and filled with danger of all kinds. But even if they find the home they're looking for, it won't be the end of their troubles...</p><p>(A human!AU adaptation of Watership Down.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sandleford

“ _There was a big rabbit,” said Dandelion. “There was a small rabbit. (...) The earth up and down the runs of the warren was so hard you could cut your paws on it, and the robins answered each other across the bare, still copses, 'This is my bit here. You go and starve in your own.”_

 

Mist swirled over the desolate grey wastes. The ever present fog that obscured the sky was beginning to tinge pink at the edges as Frith rose above the thick, murky curtain.

The morning stillness was disturbed by the rattle, clank and drag of a steel manhole being lifted. Two gasmask-clad heads poked up from beneath the cover, peering around cautiously.

“Do you think it's safe out, Fiver?” the taller of the two figures asked, his voice distorted by his mask's mouthpiece.

The shorter one frowned, his crinkled blue eyes just barely visible through the dingy eyepiece of his mask. “It doesn't feel _dangerous_ , really. It's more... oppressive. It's fine right now, anyway. Let's go.”

The two clambered out, crouching as they walked further and further from the safety of their bolt-hole.

All around them, more manhole covers were lifted, and other crouched, nervous figures picked their way along the wastes. Early morning was prime scavenger time, when most elil either hadn't yet awoken or had just gone to sleep.

“Let's see if you can track down anything good, huh Fiver?” The taller figure said, reaching down to ruffle his little brother's hair.

Hazel and Fiver were the two surviving members of a small family that had escaped to Sandleford after a collapse in their home bunker caused a mass evacuation.

When they came to Sandleford, it had been Hazel, his mother, and his three little sisters; their father hadn't survived the journey there. A month later, Fiver was born. Two or three months after that, their mother passed away, leaving Hazel to take care of his siblings.

Hazel was only ten at the time. His sisters were sent off to neighboring bunkers down south and east, where they could be taken care of properly, but Hazel refused to let Fiver go. He raised the kid himself, from a tiny, sickly baby to the rail-thin, twitchy fifteen-year-old he was now.

“Let's go that way,” Fiver said, pointing. “Over to... that pile right there.”

They picked around the trash heaps for some time, avoiding the bigger scavenger groups that might harass them, and sorting through odds-and-ends, looking for anything interesting or useful or shiny. The heaps had been sifted through for years, so most everything good was already gone, but if you looked long and hard, sometimes you were lucky enough to come across something useful.

About half an hour in, they struck gold. “Aha!” Hazel cried holding aloft an old, busted radio. “I'll bet I can get Blackberry to fix this up. Then we can pick up signals from Enborne and maybe even Newcastle. Oh Fiver, you're magic!”

Just then, a shadow fell over Hazel, and he looked up in surprise to see Toadflax looming over him, an ugly sneer on the man's face. “Hand it over, pipsqueak,” he growled.

Toadflax was six feet tall, built like a tank, and a trained member of the Sandleford owsla. He was also a bully, and standing up to him was likely to get you a broken jaw or a dislocated arm.

Despite this, Hazel clutched the broken radio to his chest and glared up at the man. “We found it, Toadflax.”

“And I'll keep it. Get out of here, before I decide you need to be taught a lesson in respecting your betters.”

Grudgingly, Hazel handed the radio over, knowing it wasn't worth a fight he would surely lose. As Toadflax strode off with his ill-gotten prize, Hazel ground his teeth in quiet fury at the injustice of it all.

Sandleford wasn't the worst place you could end up, but its owsla was oversized and leaned more towards bullying than protecting its civilians. Outskirters like him and Fiver would always be at the bottom of the pecking order.

He sighed, and looked around for his brother. “Fiver, we should head back– Fiver?”

Fiver had wandered from his side. Hazel looked around frantically, his heart in his mouth until he finally saw his brother standing some feet away, half-shrouded in the mist.

Hazel hurried over. “What's the matter? Don't run off like that, you'll give me a heart attack.”

It wasn't until he was close enough to touch him that Hazel realized the boy was shaking uncontrollably. He turned slowly, his eyes wide with horror. “The field,” he choked out. “It's covered in blood.”

Hazel put a hand on Fiver's shoulder to steady him, then peered out into the dawn. “It's just the sunrise turning the fog red. It happens every morning.”

Fiver shook his head frantically, “No, no, can't you see? There's blood everywhere! The danger, Hazel– it _is_ danger, and it's coming for us! It's coming, it's coming right now– ” He convulsed in pain or fear, beginning to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, easy there.” Hazel wrapped his arms around him and held him steady as he trembled. “Let's get you back to the bunker, ok?”

“Back to the bunker?” Fiver asked incredulously, his voice shaky but determined. “It'll come there, don't think it won't!”

“But then what can we do?” Hazel asked. Fiver was frightening him; he hadn't had a vision this intense in years. His entire body was jerking and trembling, and he looked ready to bolt in pure terror.

“We must leave. All of us, right now!”

“What, everyone in the bunker just pack up and take off? That's ridiculous.”

“We're all in terrible danger, Hazel. Everyone is.” Fiver looked up at him with huge, pleading eyes. “Please... if you don't believe me, no one will.”

Hazel looked down at his brother with concern. It sounded far-fetched, but Fiver's predictions had never been wrong before. If he said there was danger, it was best to listen to him.

He bit his lip, sighed, then gave Fiver's arm a reassuring squeeze. “I suppose, if you really think it's important- then we'd better go talk to the Threarah.”

~

It didn't take them long to make their way back down the tunnels into Sandleford's main chamber. Hazel knew the bunker so well he could probably navigate it with his eyes closed.

They were the first back from scavenging, so the big, dimly-lit hall was mostly empty, except for a few off-duty Owsla and some parents with their kids.

The main chamber was oblong and lined with pressure-sealed doors. Most of the floor was taken up by tables and benches and old, rusted chairs, as it served as a common room/ mess hall/ assembly hall for when the Threarah had something to announce.

Climbing plants grew around the walls, and in the approximate center of the room there was a large rowen tree, it's branches crawling across the ceiling and tangling with support struts and wires.

Once the doors whooshed shut behind them, Hazel and Fiver took their gas masks off and breathed the heavy, humid air. Deep underground, they were safe without their masks; in the tunnels closer to the surface they had to be more careful, in case their was a leak and the toxic outside air got in and poisoned them.

Across the room from the where the brothers stood was the door to the Threarah's office.

The Threarah was Sandleford's chief. Hazel had seen him only once or twice, as he spent most of his time locked away in his office, consulting with his owsla.

He had been their chief for several decades and he was getting on in years, but his mind was as sharp as ever. Hazel wasn't sure he would believe a fanciful story told by two young outskirters, but he had a pretty good hope that if they could just get in to see him, they could probably make him listen.

They were in luck; as they approached the door, Hazel recognized the man guarding it. 

Bigwig frowned as they approached. “Hazel? What are you doing here?” A tall, muscular fellow with dark skin and sharp brown eyes, who got his nickname from the astonishing plume of hair that fluffed up over his head, Bigwig was not one for pleasantries. He was currently armed with a small bolt-pistol, which added to his intimidating presence.

The brothers had roomed with him for a few months some time ago. They had become- well, maybe not _friends_ , in that time, but they were on good terms with each other. Bigwig had helped keep Fiver safe from bullies and his own weak immune system at back then, which had won Hazel's trust and gratitude.

Hazel cleared his throat. “It's good to see you, Bigwig. But, er, we're actually... We'll, we're here to see the Threarah. Well, my brother is.” He gestured awkwardly to Fiver, who was staring absently off into space by his side. “We need to tell him something very important.”

Bigwig raised his eyebrows. “That so? What on earth did you find in the junk today, a bomb?”

Hazel bit his lip. “Well... I think it's best if we just speak to him directly.”

“You know he'll chew my head off if I just let civilians in without an appointment.” Bigwig lifted an eyebrow. “Unless there's an emergency?”

Hazel and Fiver shared a look. “Maybe not an emergency, but I swear it's really important,” Hazel insisted. “Come on, when have I ever asked you for a favour before?”

Bigwig rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. But just know that if I get fired, it's your fault.” He typed a short code into the keypad by the office doors, and they slid open. “Alright, follow me.”

The brothers hesitated a moment longer on the doorstep, before Fiver cautiously stepped inside. As soon as Hazel walked in, the door closed behind him with a snap.

The Threarah's office was a surprisingly small room littered with maps and hung about with weapons. The Threarah himself, a distinguished older gentleman with silver-white hair and an immaculately groomed beard, was sitting behind a steel desk that looked like it might once have been part of a vehicle, frowning over a tattered piece of paper.

He looked up at them, frowning, his sharp eyes sliding from the two outliers to Bigwig. “Why have you brought civilians into my office, Bigwig?”

“They want to speak to you, sir.” Bigwig replied.

The Threarah's frown deepened. “I am extremely busy at the moment.”

“They said it's important.” Hazel was surprised to see that Bigwig looked nervous under the chief's scrutiny.

The Threarah sighed. “Very well; sit down, then.” He gestured to two free chairs on the other side of the desk, which Hazel and Fiver took. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“Well sir,” Hazel began nervously, “Fiver says– this is my brother, Fiver.” He motioned to the boy who was fidgeting on the chair beside him, his hands clenched on his knees and his eyes distant.

“You're Hazel, correct?” The Threarah said. “I knew your mother.”

Hazel nodded and let out a shaky breath, relaxing slightly. “You see, Fiver here sometimes has these sorts of... _premonitions_. He can see things that are going to happen in the future- just little things, usually, but he's been right again and again.”

The Threarah nodded slightly, but Hazel couldn't tell from his expression if he believed him or not. He continued hurriedly, “Anyway, today Fiver said he saw the bunker in some kind of danger.”

“What sort of danger?” the Threarah asked.

Hazel nudged Fiver in the ribs. “Go on, tell him what you saw.”

Fiver nodded, trembling slightly. “It– it's hard to explain. All I can see is– is blood, and fire and smoke, and this terrible darkness–” he started breathing fast, his eye twitching. Hazel put a hand on him to calm him down.

“I see.” To Hazel's dismay, the Threarah was beginning to sound openly skeptical now. “And what do you propose we do about this danger?”

Fiver snapped to attention.“Leave the bunker. All of us. _Now_.” He was so suddenly sharp and focused that Hazel was a little shocked.

The Threarah raised his eyebrows. “Isn't that rather... rash?”

“We can't stay,” Fiver said. “Those who stay.. not– not safe... that running– not– not safe– ” he suddenly went stiff and fell off his chair, kicking and shuddering.

Hazel jumped up and knelt by his side. “Fiver! I'm sorry, sir, he– he gets like this sometimes, he'll snap out of it in a moment-” as he spoke, the boy went still, breathing quick and hard.

“Perhaps you should take him to the medical bay,” The Threarah said, sounding more dismissive than concerned.

It would at least be better to take Fiver back to their room to recover. Hazel helped him up, one arm around the boy's shoulders.“Sir– about this-”

“-I will consider the matter carefully,” the Threarah cut him off. “And unless you are sent for, it would be best if you didn't come to this office without asking in advance.”

Hazel knew a dismissal when he heard one. He bowed his head in thanks and, keeping a firm grip on Fiver's forearm, turned and left the office.

As they walked away, he heard raised voices from inside– the Threarah's, sharp and angry, and Bigwig's, low and gruff. Hazel winced. “Sorry, Bigwig,” he muttered, and led his brother away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LETS DO THIIIIIIS
> 
> My first long project on AO3! I'm so proud of myself for not copping out on this in various capacities. @_@ I've been working on this monster since June or July 2014. 
> 
> Please comment and tell me how I'm doing, I live for attention. Or you can contact me at Shiisiln.tumblr.com. 8D
> 
> Translations;
> 
> Owsla- Basically the police. May vary in number and firepower from bunker to bunker.
> 
> Threarah- King Rowan. (Threar- A rowan tree, Rah- chief, king, leader, etc.)


	2. Into the dark

_Before such people can act together, a kind of telepathic feeling has to flow through them and ripen to the point when they all know that they are ready to begin. Anyone who has seen the martens and swallows in September, assembling on the telephone wires, twittering, making short flights singly and in groups over the open (…) until that moment when the greater part (but not all) of them know that the time has come._

 

By the time they left the main chamber, Fiver had calmed down, but Hazel was disheartened. He should have realized that there was no way the Threarah would take them seriously. He probably thought that Fiver was faking his powers for attention.

It frustrated Hazel, but he also felt embarrassed for making a scene in the Threarah's office like that. Not that he blamed Fiver– the boy couldn't help when and where he had those fits of his. But he couldn't help but feel that he should have said something else, something impressive that would have changed the Threarah's mind.

Hazel took Fiver back to their room, figuring the kid could use a lie-down after his ordeal.

Their room was a dark, cluttered unit dominated by two bunk-beds, with just about enough space to stand up and turn around in between.

They shared it with two other young outskirters; Blackberry, a tinker who was the cause for most of the clutter, loose parts and toys and strange half-finished gadgets spilling out from the sort of nest he'd built for himself on the top right bunk, and Dandelion, a storyteller who was much more organized, but owned so many books that he never had enough space for them all.

Hazel nudged Fiver onto the bottom bunk of their bed, and the boy perched there, fidgeting and wringing his hands. “I– I'm sorry, Hazel. I didn't mean to freak out like that.”

“It's ok, Hrairoo.” said Hazel. “Why don't you lie down for a bit?”

Fiver shook his head. “I don't want to close my eyes. I'm afraid I'll see it again... the fire and the dark and– Hazel, it's terrible.”

Hazel was nervous that if Fiver kept this up, he would fret himself into exhaustion and get sick. “Well, what can I do to help you?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” said Fiver, and his tone was so bleak and hopeless it seemed to suck the air and light from the room. “We can't fight it, Hazel. We can only run, as far and as fast as we can.”

Hazel didn't know how to respond to that. He carefully reached over and stroked his brother's hair, and Fiver leaned into the touch.

Just then, the door flew open, and their roommates came bounding in, Dandelion taking the lead and Blackberry bobbing up and down behind his shoulders.

Hazel jumped in surprise, his head colliding painfully with the steel struts of the top bunk.“ _Frith_ , guys, can't you ever knock?!” Hazel rubbed the top of his head with a groan.

Dandelion ignored his pain. “What on  _earth_ were you two doing in the Chief’s office this morning?!”

Hazel's heart skipped a beat. “How did you know about that?”

“So it's true!” Blackberry piped up. “I thought someone was just spreading rumors.”

“What exactly did you hear?” asked Hazel.

“Just that someone saw 'that little psychic freak and his brother' heading into the Threarah's office like you were on an important secret mission,” Dandelion explained.

Hazel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fiver, why don't you tell them what you saw?”

Fiver told them. Dandelion and Blackberry listened with rapt attention, their faces growing more and more sober as he spoke.

When he came to the end of his story, Dandelion sighed and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. “Well, I can't see much confusion on the matter,” he said. “When should we leave?”

Hazel was startled. “You think we should go?”

“Oh _come on_ Hazel!” Blackberry exclaimed. “When was the last time Fiver was wrong about anything? If he says we have to go, then we'd be fools not to listen! Besides, he's your brother; don't _you_ believe him?”

Hyper-aware of Fiver's big, nervous eyes on him, Hazel stuttered out; “Well yes, yes of course– of  _course_ I believe you, Hrairoo. I just- it's been a long time since I've been out side the bunker, and...” he trailed off, unsure of any way to finish that sentence that didn't involve the words “I'm scared”

Dadelion put an arm around his shoulders.“Don't worry Hazel; as long as we stick together, I'm sure we can handle it.”

“It's not like it's so great here anyway,” Blackberry added. “This bunker's too crowded as it is; the runts and hangers-on like us should have cleared off years ago. I think you'd be surprised at how many people would like to leave.”

He had a point. There were too many young men at the bunker, and it was tight quarters and short rations for everyone at the moment. “St i ll,  it  will be dangerous,” Hazel pointed out. “And where would we  _go_ , anyway?”

“Anywhere we please,” said Dandelion. “We could go south to the big cities, or-”

“North,” Fiver piped up. “We have to go north.”

They all started at him for a moment. “What's up north?” Blackberry asked.

Dandelion shrugged. “The maps are pretty vague past Endborne. But we could always carve out our own place if it came down to it. We've got our chief engineer right here!” He ruffled Blackberry's hair fondly, and Blackberry laughed under the attention.

Suddenly, the door opened again. Hazel startled and turned, not used to visitors at this time of day.

It was Bigwig, crouching to fit through the door. “Fuck's sake, this place is tiny! How do you all squeeze in?!”

“What are you doing here?” Hazel asked.

Bigwig finished cramming himself inside so he could close the door, then stood there, awkwardly hunched, folding his arms and glaring at the ceiling.

“Are you off-duty?” Blackberry asked.

“Off duty– and likely to remain off.” Bigwig replied. “I quit the owsla.”

There was an impressive collective gasp. He waved one large hand, dismissing their shock. “Yeah, yeah, I know, just let me finish. After you two left, the Chief chewed me out big time, and well, let's just say it set my temper off a bit.”

Hazel, who had once lived in close quarters with Bigwig's temper for quite some time, winced.

“And I told him I was sick of being bossed around, being shoved into guard duty for hours and then yelled at for no damn good reason. And then I left. So, down to business. Shortstack– what's your name again?”

“Fiver.” The boy looked up at him, unblinking and unafraid.

“Right. This isn't just some big prank to make you look important, is it? Because I swear I'll wring your scrawny neck if I just yelled at my boss and threw my only job opportunity in his face for nothing.”

“It's absolutely true,” Fiver replied earnestly.

“Good. Then I'm going with you.”

Hazel raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“There's nothing for me here I can't get on my own in a different bunker. I haven't been promoted in four years, and they keep sticking me with the dumbass recruits who think the owsla is all guts and glory. And besides,” here he rubbed his neck, sheepish but still firmly resolved, “I don't like how top-heavy the hierarchy has gotten in this place; the biggest man gets the best shit, and where does that leave kids like you? It ain't fair.”

Hazel thought back to that morning, when Toadflax had bullied the radio out of his hands. His anger welled as he imagined how delighted Blackberry would have been with the unexpected gift, and how often they had to give up luxuries– and sometimes even necessities– because of bullies like him.

Between that and the promise of Bigwig coming with them, he was finally able to make up his mind. “Then... if we're going to leave, we might as well go soon. How about tonight at midnight?”

“That should give us enough time to pack up,” said Blackberry.

“How many are you planning to take along?” Bigwig asked.

“Everyone,” said Fiver.

“As many as will come,” Hazel amended. “Bigwig, do you think you can talk any of the owsla around?”

“I should be able to convince one or two. It's bad in the owsla, too, the newcomers get hazed like hell.” Bigwig suddenly grinned. “Better than that, I can get us weapons. Nobody'll notice a few guns and knives missing.”

“Don't get in trouble,” Dandelion warned.

“I'm already in trouble. A little more won't kill me.”

His careless attitude irked Hazel, and he started to wonder if Bigwig's fighting experience would make up for his short temper and impulsive attitude in the long run.

“Dandelion, you should go see who else wants to come with us,” Blackberry said. “You're good at convincing people. Hazel, Fiver, we should pack everything up.”

“Where will we meet up afterwards?” Dandelion asked.

“Fiver said we need to go north, so... the crossroads?” Hazel suggested.

Dandelion nodded and left. Bigwig followed him, barely managing to squeeze back out through the door.

~

Midnight found Hazel, Fiver and Blackberry crouched on the cold steel floor of the crossroads, surrounded by what luggage they'd decided to bring with them.

Hazel and Fiver had nothing to bring apart from blankets and clothes and a few small sentimental trinkets. Blackberry had made the gut-wrenching decision to leave most of his gadgets and half-finished projects behind, although he'd thrown in a few that might come in handy. They had known without asking to pack every single book in Dandelion's collection, on pain of slow and agonizing death.

The crossroads was where the bunker ended and the Underground began. It was a large, roundish chamber, which opened up into multiple tunnels that wound and crossed and, if you knew which path to take, led to the other bunkers where the remnants of humanity took refuge.

As opposed to the bunker proper, which was stuffy and humid, the crossroads was chilly, wind blowing through from every tunnel mouth, bringing eerie noises of far off water and machinery and who knew what else.

Fiver sat cross legged on the floor, bundled up in an oversized red hoodie that had once belonged to their mom. He was much calmer, now that he knew they were going to leave soon; in fact, he seemed to be the least nervous of them all. Hazel couldn't help but tap his fingers impatiently against his thigh, and Blackberry was muttering quietly to himself about wrenches.

At about five minutes past, they heard someone coming down the path that lead back to the bunker. They all sat up and peered over the lip of the tunnel until Bigwig came into view, flanked by two others.

“You're late,” Hazel hissed.

“I'm here, ain't I? We had trouble getting all this shit down here unnoticed.” Bigwig held out a thick roll of tarp, which he unrolled to reveal a shining bundle of weaponry. “Look children, presents! All of you, take a sword or a knife; I'm not handing out guns to anyone if I don't know whether they can shoot or not.”

Hazel picked out a compact sword. Fiver chose a small, wicked dagger, and Blackberry dithered for a long minute before finally picking up a short, plain knife, holding it away from him by the handle like it might leap up and stab him on its own.

Bigwig was sporting his usual hand-pistol, but he also had a long battle-club strapped to his thigh, and a long rifle on his back. The other two men were armed similarly, and Hazel couldn't help but feel nervous. “Er, who are your friends?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh, this is Silver and Buckthorn.” He gestured to them in turn. “They were both under me in the owsla; some of the rookies and delinquents I told you they're so fond of sticking me with.”

“Stop, you're making us blush,” Silver– obviously named for his long, pale hair- said dryly. He was less muscular than Bigwig, but he was taller and had a definite “Don't mess with me” look on his face.

Buckthorn was solidly built but much shorter than his two comrades. He hung back a bit, looking shy, but smiled and raised a hand in greeting when Hazel caught his eye.

A few minute later, Dandelion appeared at the tunnel-mouth, out of breath and trailing several more recruits. “I brought Pipkin, Speedwell, Hawkbit and Acorn. Is everyone else here?”

Hazel's spirits sank at the mention of Hawkbit's name. The kid was a notorious troublemaker around the bunker, and he didn't look forward to his company for however long they would be traveling. He didn't recognize any of the others except for Pipkin, a small, shy, slightly pudgy fellow who was friends with Fiver.

“We're all here,” he said. “Is anyone else coming?”

“Violet said she might bring her kids, but I don't know if we can wait for her. You see, Toadflax caught me chatting people up in the main chamber, and started asking me what I was trying to do, and said that I'd better not be causing any trouble, or he'd take it to the Threarah.”

“I don't think we've actually done anything illegal,” Blackberry said. “I mean, it's not a crime to leave, right?”

“Except for the stolen weapons,” Hazel mused. “And they might not be happy we're making off with three owsla members in one night.”

“Um, I could stay behind, if it would help anything,” Buckthorn offered.

“You stay put, Buck,” Bigwig said exasperatedly. “Everybody, just keep your heads, and don't start running and screaming if something _does_ happen.”

Just then, as though Bigwig's words had summoned them, a third party arrived at the crossroads. But it wasn't Violet and her family- it was Captain Holly, backed up by several members of the owsla.

Captain Holly was the Threarah's right-hand man and commander of the Sandleford owsla. He was stern, with iron-grey hair and lines around a mouth that rarely smiled, and he tended to see justice in absolute terms.

“You are all under arrest,” he told them, his voice carrying across the room and bouncing back to them as echoes. “Come with us quietly and you will not be harmed.”

“ _Fuck the po-lice!_ ” Hawkbit yelled from the back of the crowd.

“ _Hawkbit_!” Pipkin exclaimed, scandalized.

“What are we under arrest for?” Hazel demanded.

“Spreading dissension. Inciting to mutiny. Plotting against the Chief,” Holly answered.

“Holly, have some goddamn sense,” Bigwig growled. “It's four-on- what, ten of us? And we have bigger guns.”

“By the way, we know you stole those,” one of the officers in the back piped up. “We're not blithering idiots, Bigwig.”

Bigwig's looked sheepish, but he stood his ground. “What's it gonna be, Holly? A massacre? Or will you just let us go, and we promise not to come back and cause any more trouble?”

There was a long, tense silence. Hazel could feel his heart beating wildly out of control, and he desperately hoped it wasn't about to devolve into a shoot-out.

Suddenly, Holly lunged forward, tackling Bigwig in the gut. They fell to the ground, and the rest of the owsla on both sides rushed in to help.

Hazel stood back, his hand trembling on the hilt of his blade. What was he supposed to do? Should he fight? Should they run? What would happen to them if the Owsla dragged them back to Sandleford?

Before he could make up his mind, there was a nasty crunch and a yelp of pain. The fight broke up and Hazel saw Holly cradling one arm like it had been broken.

Bigwig stood up, breathing heavily. “Go now, or we'll kill you,” he snarled.

Holly glared at him for several long seconds. Finally, he dropped his gaze. “... I'm disappointed in you, Bigwig.”

Bigwig's eyes narrowed. “GO! Get out of here!”

Holly and his owsla contingent left, slowly marching away down the corridor. Bigwig turned back to the group. “Now we better scram. He's going to come with more back-up soon, and then we're screwed.”

“But what about– ” Dandelion began.

Bigwid cut him off. “Just go, RUN! Go to the northmost tunnel and for Frith's sake, stick together!”

They all scrambled off towards the tunnel, flanked by Bigwig and Silver, with Dandelion in the lead. Hazel caught hold of Fiver's hand and pulled him along. As they left the dim light of the crossroads and descended into darkness, he couldn't help but wonder; what had they gotten themselves into?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawkbit I s2g


	3. Dangerous Water

_'All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.'_

 

They couldn't run forever.

In fact, they couldn't run for very long at all, because it got darker and darker the further they went into the tunnel. They stumbled along in the dark for some time, bumping into each other and groping for the walls.

Finally, after Pipkin fell and scraped himself up pretty bad, Bigwig allowed them to light up an electric lantern, which cast a dim green glow over the company.

“They probably won't chase us past the Endborne,” he said, handing the lantern off to Silver. “It would be too much trouble just to catch a bunch of outskirters. If we can just cross the river, we should be safe.”

Hazel didn't like the 'should' and 'probably' in that little speech, but he supposed it was the best they were going to get right now.

They pushed on for hours, too tired and frightened to talk much. As they walked, Hazel kept a firm hold of Fiver's hand, afraid that he would lose his brother in the dark. Fiver, in turn, held onto Pipkin's sleeve. Pipkin wasn't doing well after his fall, his breathing laboured and his feet stumbling in the dark.

Buckthorn eventually noticed that they were lagging behind, and he doubled back to walk by them and keep guard.

Hazel decided that he liked Buckthorn.

The tunnel slowly widened and began branching off. This gave them more room, but also increased the chances of someone getting lost, so they bunched up close together. Hawkbit, Speedwell and Acorn kept muttering under their breath at each other, which didn't do anything for Hazel's nerves.

Eventually, a noise made it's way to their ears. A burbling, rushing sound that grew and grew as they walked until Hazel realized it was the sound of running water.

They had reached the river Endborne, which shared it's name with a small settlement on the east side that sometimes traded with Sandleford.

Everyone was excited to see the landmark. Hawkbit and some of the other young ones ran up to it, laughing delightedly, and Hazel realized they had probably never _seen_ a river.

Hazel had only seen one once, when his family was making the journey north from their old bunker. It had been wider but much shallower than this, and they'd had to wade through it. He could still remember clinging to his mother's chest as she ferried him across.

He nudged Fiver. “You've never seen this before, have you?”

“I have,” Fiver said quietly. “In a dream, once.”

“Oh.” Hazel was surprised, and a little disappointed. He'd sort of wanted this to be a special moment for them.

The good mood that head spread through the group at the sight of the river soon disappeared, however, as they realized there was no way to cross.

“Have you been out this way on patrols before, Bigwig?” Hazel asked.

Bigwig shook his head slowly. “We don't– _they_ don't– go north often.”

“Can we swim across?” asked Acorn.

“It's too deep, dummy,” Hawkbit answered. “Besides, it's probably toxic.”

“I hate to agree with the brat, but he's right.” Bigwig murmured. “It looks like we're stuck here for a while.”

Hazel bit his lip. On the one hand, everyone was exhausted, especially Fiver and Pipkin, and they probably needed a nice long rest before they could go any further. On the other hand, they were still being pursued by the owsla.

Besides, it was always a bad idea to hang around one spot in the tunnels for too long, in case your scent attracted elil. And everyone was so nervous and jumpy and Hazel was afraid it would turn into a shouting match if he didn't think of something quick.

“Bigwig,” he murmured, “would you go scout around and see if you can find some way to cross? I'll keep everyone occupied here.”

“Careful with throwing those orders around, kid,” Bigwig replied. “they'll start calling you 'Hazel-rah' and then we won't hear the end of it.” But he left willingly enough, and after making sure Fiver and Pipkin were settled down safely with Buckthorn nearby, Hazel ventured out into the milling group by the river to find Dandelion.

He put his hands on his friend's shoulders and announced to the crowd, “Alright, settle down, everybody; Dandelion here is going to tell us a story while we wait for Bigwig to finish scouting.”

In unison, they all went quiet. Hazel smiled; nothing like the promise of a story to settle people down.

Dandelion cleared his throat, then clasped his hands behind his back. “This is the story of the blessing of El-ahrairah.”

Storytelling was a big part of life in the bunkers. When people were stuck underground for hours or days or weeks with little to do, and with few materials for toys or games, they told stories to pass the time.

Over the years it had grown into a rich tradition. The stories they told were more than just entertainment; they were a way to pass knowledge and warnings from one settlement to the rest. They taught history and survival skills to children, they brought comfort in hard times, and they stoked the minds and imaginations of those who heard them.

As such, storytellers were highly respected, depending on how well they could spin a tale. Dandelion was very good at his craft, and even the most restless members of the group listened quietly as he spoke.

The blessing of El-ahrairah was an old, familiar story, one they all knew by heart. It was just the sort of thing for a stressful situation in unfamiliar territory, and as Hazel picked his way through the crowd back towards his brother, he noticed an immediate change in the air, a release of tension.

Fiver leaned against him as they listened to Dandelion's warm, rich voice recount the familiar words. Hazel closed his eyes and allowed himself to rest for a while, imagining himself in a world of green, soft grass and blue sky filled with the light of Frith, where clever rabbits could trick their way out of any tight spot and balance was restored at the end of each tale.

El-ahrairah was a universal hero for those who lived underground. No rabbit had been seen in living memory, but the clever creatures and their prince had become a symbol of hope for new beginnings, as well as a reminder of how they must always be cautious in their underground world.

A smattering of applause rang out when Dandelion finished the tale. He smiled and bowed and was just starting another story, when Bigwig suddenly ran back up the tunnel.

“If we're going to cross the river, we better haul ass,” Bigwig said. “There's some kind of elil loose in the tunnels.”

Concerned, frightened muttering broke out across the room.

“Wh-what will we do?” Pipkin stammered out. “We don't know how to cross yet!”

“There's nothing for it; we'll have to swim.” Bigwig said decisively.

“Not all of us know how,” Hazel said.

“Well, then those who do will just have to ferry the others across.”

Hazel didn't like this idea; the river was too deep and too fast, he had trouble believing that even someone as large as Bigwig wouldn't get swept away by the current. And as for the small or inexperienced like his brother...

He felt Pipkin huddle close on his left side, breathing fast. Hazel put his arm around him and rubbed his shoulder soothingly. Fiver, on his other side, seemed a little calmer, although he was still alert, his blue eyes glinting in the dim light as he looked around.

Before there could be any further discussion, Blackberry's voice broke the silence. “Hey, Bigwig; do you have any idea what these ropes are for?”

“What?” Bigwig turned around and saw Blackberry sitting at the edge of the river. He had drifted away from the main group as the story was being told and was gazing contemplatively at the ceiling over the river, where a criss-crossing nest of ropes was hung. “No, why?.”

“Because it looks like- I think it might be a bridge,” Blackberry explained. “If you have someone on either side pulling on those long pieces, I think it folds out into a bridge!”

Hazel was nonplussed. All he knew of bridges was that there was one further south that could be used to cross the Endborne. And it was made of steel and cement, not bits of string.

But Fiver seemed to get it right away. “Brilliant!” he crowed, his voice unexpectedly loud. “If someone can get to the other side, it just might work.”

Bigwig shot Hazel an incredulous look. Hazel shrugged. “If Fiver and Blackberry think it will work, I'm sure it's a good idea. Who can swim to the other side?”

“I will,” Silver volunteered.

“Won't the water make you sick?” Acorn asked.

“Bad water only hurts you if you drink it,” Silver explained. “I'll just be in it for a bit, I'll be fine.”

“Then get to it. I'll hold this end of the bridge, or whatever this thing is,” said Bigwig. “Buckthorn, cover us.”

Silver tossed his gun across to the other side, then dove into the river with a splash and swam with powerful strokes to the opposite bank. From there he took hold of one of the longest hanging straps and pulled it hard.

Bigwig groped for his cord– he wasn't quite as tall as Silver, and had a significantly shorter reach– and finally managed to snag the end of it and pull.

The ropes stretched and unfolded into a large, squareish tube, like a cat's-cradle held between two hands. It was broken in a few places and they would have to climb onto Bigwig's shoulders to reach it, but it was definitely a bridge.

Everyone cheered. “Good show, Blackberry!” Dandelion crowed, thumping his friend on the back.

“Me first!” Hawkbit called out, and scrambled up Bigwig's back to reach the ropes.

“Hey, watch where you're putting your feet, brat!” Bigwig growled, wincing away just in time to avoid a kick to the face.

“Go slow,” cautioned Blackberry. “Don't lose your grip when you reach that gap there, you might fall.”

“If you ask me, a nice cold dip might do him some good,” Bigwig grumbled.

Hawkbit reached the other side intact, and Speedwell started clambering after him. He hadn't even made it halfway when a slow, heavy shuffling sound reached their ears from the tunnel behind them.

“It's coming this way,” Bigwig hissed. “Hurry, hurry!”

“Send the little guys up first,” Dandelion said. “Fiver, Pipkin, Acorn– ”

“I don't think I can climb,” Pipkin said, his voice shaky with terror. “My leg– it hurts, I can't– ”

Hazel gripped his shoulder firmly. “We'll go together last, I'll help you along.”

Fiver scrambled up after Speedwell and spidered his way across the bridge. Acorn had frozen in terror at the first sound of the approaching elil, and had to be bullied up Bigwig's shoulder's by Dandelion and encouraged across by his friends on the other side.

Next was Blackberry, then Dandelion, then finally Hazel gave Pipkin a boost up. “Can you take both our weight at the same time?” he asked Bigwig.

“Just go,” Bigwig growled, and his arms shook with the strain of holding the bridge steady as Hazel climbed over him.

Pipkin had to crawl slowly, clutching at the ropes with white knuckles and dragging his hurt leg behind him. Hazel stayed close behind and was ready to catch him if he wobbled or started to fall.

It was going well until just about halfway, when his good foot slipped and shot through a gap between the ropes. He let out a high, quavering wail of terror. “ _Hazel!_ ”

“It's alright, Pip, you're okay,” Hazel soothed him, trying not to let panic or frustration seep into his voice.

“Hurry up! The damn thing's coming up the tunnel!” Bigwig snarled at them.

Hazel climbed forwards until he was right beside Pipkin, who was tense and trembling in fear. He put a firm hand on the boy's shoulders. “Listen to me, Pip. You've got to climb to the other side. I know you can do it; you've come this far, haven't you?”

Pipkin shook his head furiously. “I can't, I can't–”

“Yes you can. Don't look at the river, look over at the other bank. Fiver's down there waiting for you; just keep your eyes on him and move forward. You can do that, can't you? I'm right here. Come on, let's get your leg free.

With gentle words and firm movements, Hazel coaxed Pipkin to pull his leg back up and move forward. He kept a hand on the boy at all times, reassuring him that he wasn't alone.

After what felt like hours, they finally reached the other side. Hazel lowered Pipkin down to where Fiver was waiting to grab his hands and wrap him up in a steadying embrace. Pipkin trembled in the other boy's arms, weeping quietly from terror and relief.

As soon as Hazel got off the bridge, Silver relaxed his grip on the rope. “Bigwig, I'm not sure we can hold this up for Buckthorn. And how are you going to get across?”

“Let go of the rope and I'll show you,” Bigwig said. “All of you, clear away from the bank!” As soon as Silver let go, the bridge folded back up into the ceiling, and Bigwig's side of the rope slackened. He wrapped it around his hands twice, took a few steps back, then leapt and swung straight over the river, landing heavily on the cement of the bank.

“Catch!” he yelled, and tossed the rope over to Buckthorn, just as a massive, furry shape emerged from the tunnel and shouldered its way into the light.

Buckthorn squeaked loudly and scrambled for the rope, barely catching the tail end of it. His swing was less well-executed than Bigwig's, and he fell short of the bank and plunged into the river instead.

Bigwig and Silver hauled him out, and he shook himself off, grimacing as the oily water sluiced off him.

A thick snuffling noise had them all turning as one to stare across the river at the monster on the opposite bank. It was a massive, low-slung shape with white and black stripes and glittering green eyes.

“A Lendri”, Bigwig murmured. “We should go; it won't chase us like a cat or a dog would.”

They filed out of the river chamber and up the thin tunnel that curved away north, stealing glances back at the enormous creature that somberly watched them go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note- I'm sprinkling a little Lapine through the story. Should I include translations at the bottom of the page when I introduce a new word? Or should I assume all my readers have a copy of the book handy to look it up?
> 
> Eh, I'll add them in for now.
> 
> Elil- anything that eat rabbits. In this AU, animals that have been mutated into giant monster by radiation. (Just go with it, ok?)
> 
> Lendri- Badger.


	4. Respite

“ _Hoi, hoim u embleer Hrair,_

_ M'saion ul _ _ é _ _ hraka vair.” _

 

“What would have happened if we hadn't made it across in time?” Blackberry asked., breaking the tense silence that had held since they crossed the river.

“Probably nothing,” Silver said. “Lendri aren't like Homba or dogs; they won't attack a group of humans and half the time they'll leave you alone even if you're unarmed. But if they do attack, it's vicious. They can tear through steel doors with their claws; digging up a bunker would be child's play for one of them.”

“We could have shot it,” Hawkbit chimed in, seeming a little disappointed they hadn't.

“Sure, and the noise would be as good as a sign-post telling the owsla which way we went!'” Bigwig snarked. “Kid, let's just hope we don't _have_ to use these guns.”

Hazel's attention was pulled away from the conversation when Pipkin stumbled. “You okay?” he asked.

“I-I'll be fine,” Pipkin wheezed, his face pale and sickly under the lantern light. “I'm j-just a bit- a bit winded.”

Hazel frowned. Climbing across the bridge seemed to have done the poor lad in, his leg now so bad he had to lean on Fiver like a crutch. And the rest of them weren't in much better shape. They would have to stop and rest soon.

Luck was on their side this time- just as Hazel thought this, he heard Dandelion say, “It looks a bit lighter ahead.”

After a few more minutes of walking, they emerged into a wide, rounded chamber with a sandy floor and a few flickering lights hung about. There were four tunnels leading out of it; it looked like a man-made hub, maybe a juncture of roads that had been abandoned when some of the main highways between the nearby bunkers were built.

The ceiling was low enough for Bigwig to tap the butt of his rifle against it, sending down a shower of plaster bits and dirt. “We're close to the surface. Everybody, gasmasks on!”

There was some grumbling, mostly from Hawkbit's group, but everyone obediently began taking their masks out and putting them on.

“We can stay here for the night,” said Hazel, pulling the straps on his mask tight. “I don't think the owsla will come this far.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Bigwig replied darkly.

“Either way, we have to rest. Everyone's exhausted, and I'm worried about Pipkin's leg.”

“Fine, but we're leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

Hazel rolled his eyes at this unsympathetic reply, then turned back to Pipkin, who was laid out on his back, breathing hard and looking miserable. “Blackberry, bring the first aid kit over, will you?”

It turned out that Pipkin had cut his foot pretty badly through a hole in his boot, but his feet were so numb from walking that he hadn't even noticed. They cleaned the cut, bandaged it, then taped his boot up so it wouldn't happen again.

Once that was taken care of, Hazel went to find Fiver. The kid was curled up in the middle of the room, already fast asleep.

Hazel smiled fondly at him and sat down, running a free hand through his brother's hair.

He looked around the room, watching everyone get ready to sleep; Hawkbit and Speedwell arguing over blankets, Bigwig and Silver cleaning their guns as Buckthorn tried to get river-water out of his ammo case, Blackberry changing out of his binder to sleep, and Dandelion squinting at a book through the dirty, worn glass of his eyepiece.

“Er, Hazel?”

He looked up to see Pipkin standing over him, fidgeting nervously. “What's up?”

Pipkin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I- well, I just wanted to thank you for helping me back there at the bridge. I- I feel like maybe I shouldn't have come, if I'm just going to be a burden for everyone...”

“Sit down, Pip.” Hazel patted the floor next to him, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he obeyed. “You're not a burden. You're a real trooper, in fact; I can't imagine struggling all this way, hurt and scared as you were. We're happy to have you along.”

Pipkin smiled a little at that, and Hazel continued, “And besides, you're still just a kid. You can't judge yourself by the same standards that-”

“I'm not _that_ young,” Pipkin objected. “I turned twenty last fall.”

Hazel's mouth fell open in shock. “Seriously?! I thought you were Fiver's age!”

Pipkin chuckled, taking his assumptions in stride. “I'm just small. It runs in the family.”

Hazel was suddenly very aware of how close they were. It had been easy and natural to share that sort of physical intimacy with him along the way, thinking that he was a kid who needed to be touched and comforted, like Fiver.

But the same closeness with an adult sent an entirely different set of signals. Did Pipkin feel like he was being coddled or patronized?

H e  didn't protest, though , and Hazel realized that if he pulled away now,  _ he  _ would be the one making things awkward. So he put such thoughts out of his mind and instead asked, “So, do you  _ have _ any family back in Sandleford?”

A shadow passed over Pipkin's face, and he shook his head. “No... it's just me.”

Hazel nodded. Orphans were common in Sandleford, for various reasons. “I'm sorry.”

Pipkin shook his head. “S'alright. You and Fiver... you haven't got anyone either, right?”

“No.” Hazel swallowed down the bitter taste that memories of his parents and siblings brought. “I suppose I baby him a little, but I can't help it. If I lost him... I don't know what I'd do.”

Pipkin got a thoughtful look on his face, and suddenly sat up straight. “Hazel,” he said, his voice determined, “I promise your kindness won't go to waste. I'm going to try my best to be strong and brave and pull my weight- just like you.”

Hazel was taken aback. His first instinct was to laugh, but then he realized that this was a serious declaration for Pipkin. In fact, he was touched that the young man had such a high opinion of him, to want to earn his trust and respect like that. “Thank you,” he said, simply. “I know I can depend on you. Now let's get some rest.”

It didn't take long for Hazel to fall asleep, snuggled up between two warm bodies and blinking up at the dim lights hanging from the ceiling, watching their fitful glow until his eyes drifted shut.

~

Something disturbed Hazel's sleep. He blinked up at the ceiling with gummy eyes, wondering what had woken him.

He felt safe and comfortable enough. Fiver and Pipkin were still fast asleep on either side of him, their soft breath on his neck and ears. He lifted his head just enough to look around and, from what he could see through the fish-eyed lens of his mask, everyone else was still sleeping.

He laid back down with a sigh, and let himself be lulled off by rhythmic breathing of his companions and the low, steady scraping sound that- wait, what?

He sat up again, more alert this time. Just on the edge of his hearing was a  _ scrape, scrape, skritch skritch scratch _ that must have been just enough to wake him moments before. He cocked his head, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

A small shower of dust and rocks fell from the ceiling, right over Hawkbit, Speedwell and Acorn's slumbering bodies. Acorn stirred and looked up sleepily. “Wha....?”

A thrill of adrenaline went through Hazel's body but before he could react, the roof began to cave in and the room was suddenly alive with screams of terror and confused yells.

A massive snout shoved it's way through the roof, white teeth glimmering in the light from above. The elil's wide, blunt nose hit Acorn in the chest as he scrambled to get away, knocking him flat. The boy squealed in terror as jaws snapped shut inches above his head.

Bigwig and Buckthorn cocked their pistols in unison and fired at the creature's muzzle until it retreated from the hole in the ceiling- only to be replaced with a long, groping paw.

Hazel scrambled to his feet and raced forward, and, with Speedwell's assistance, dragged a paralyzed and whimpering Acorn out of immediate danger.

The elil stuck its nose back into the hole, then pushed the rest of its head through in a shower of gravel. Grey fur, long nose, massive, bulging yellow eyes- a dog or a wolf, Hazel thought, stunned. He'd never had the misfortune of seeing any such creature up close before.

It's sharp eyes locked onto Acorn and Speedwell, who were clinging to each other, frozen in terror under its gaze.

Hazel's hands shook as he unsheathed his short sword.  Without thinking, h e  ran forward and  lashed out wildly at the elil.  Shoving the blade forward, he embedded it in the flesh of the creature's snout with a solid, wet  _ thunk. _

The thing yowled in pain and shook its head, yanking the hilt out of Hazel's hands. He tripped and fell to his knees.

He looked up, into the maw of the great beast before him. His heart clenched in terror, and all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut as the massive teeth and powerful jaws bore down on him.

_BANG_

Slowly, Hazel opened his eyes.

Bigwig was standing over him, the barrel of his gun pointed down the elil's throat. Time stood still for a moment. The only movement was a thin stream of smoke that trickled from the creature's mouth, the only sound the pounding of Hazel's own heart.

Then the monster's head fell to the ground with a crash, it's jaw slack and it's eyes glassing over.

Hazel fell over onto his back with a whimper.

Bigwig thumped his head with the butt of his gun. “Do us all a favour, and leave the stupid heroics to the owsla.”

Hazel nodded, still dazed with fear and adrenaline.

There was a crack and a crunch as the ceiling began to collapse under the weight of the dead elil's body. Bigwig grabbed Hazel by the collar and hauled him to his feet, dragging him to the tunnel-mouth where everyone else has ran for safety.

Their small company huddled together, in the dark and the cold, all quietly thankful for their gasmasks as they blinked nervously up at the swirling mist seeping in from outside.

“Where do we go now?” Pipkin's voice quavered up in the silence, small and afraid.

Hazel took a deep breath, attempting to calm his panicked heart. “Fiver?” he asked.

“We have to keep going north,” Fiver replied. Hazel felt a small hand curling into his and squeezing softly- his brother offering him comfort. He took it gladly.

“And we're just supposed to take your word for it, huh?” Silver hissed. “There's nothing out north! How do we know we're not just walking to our deaths?!”

“Oh pipe down, Silver,” Bigwig growled, his voice too loud in the stillness. “What choice have we got? We can turn back and be arrested, we can go to Endborne and probably _still_ get arrested, or we can wait around here until the fucking dead wolf attracts _more_ stinking elil. Any of those options sound appealing to you?”

A muttering of grudging agreement went through the group.

“No? Then I don't see any point hanging around. Northwards we go.” As they began to move, Bigwig sidled up next to Hazel and put a hand on his shoulder. “But if it turns out you _are_ just leading us out into the wilderness to die- I'm gonna be pissed, and you're gonna be the first  one to know about it.”

Hazel swallowed hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations;
> 
> Opening quote;
> 
> "Hoi, Hoi, the stinking Thousand, we meet them even when we stop to pass our droppings."
> 
> Homba- fox.


	5. A Long and Weary March

_(Rabbits) have two natural gaits- the gentle, lolloping forward movement of the warren on a summer evening and the lightning dash for cover that every human has seen at some time or other. It is difficult to imagine a rabbit plodding steadily on: they are not built for it. It is true that young rabbits are great migrants and capable of journeying for miles, but they do not take to it readily._

 

The road north was not an easy one.

Almost immediately they came to wild, undeveloped areas where the floor was cracked and strewn with rubble. They stuck close together and jumped at small noises and movement out of the corner of their eyes.

The former owsla members were tense and trigger happy. At one point Bigwig shot at what turned out to be a particularly large rock, and Silver had to hold him back so he didn't hurt himself kicking it to pieces in his anger.

They kept their gasmasks on, paranoid after the disaster at the crossroads. And it was good they did, becuase in some spots the roof had caved in, leaving them exposed to the toxins leaking in from above.

Finally, they came to a place that was so caved in that there was no way they could continue forward underground. The only path before them lead up and out the lip of the tunnel, and then they would have to walk on the surface.

Tense, hushed murmurings broke out across the company, and Hazel realized that they were in very real danger of giving up. Even Silver and Bigwig were muttering to each other and eyeing the blocked tunnel skeptically, and Hawkbit and his friends were backing up nervously.

Hazel took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and stepped forwards. “Well, if we have to go aboveground, we might as well get it over with. Fiver, Pipkin, come on, you can walk with me.”

Fiver immediately came to his side, and Pipkin hesitated for only a moment before darting forwards to take his free hand. Together, they began to climb the pile of wreckage, slipping on loose gravel as they went.

“Are you out of your fucking _minds_?” Bigwig snarled up at them. “We'll be bright, shiny targets up there for anything that wants to chew on our bones!”

“It's either this or go back,” Hazel answered. “Do you want to go back?”

There was some muted grumbling, but after a minute, the rest of them began to follow. Hazel could hear Bigwig quietly ordering Silver and Buckthorn to take defensive positions and keep the group formed up.

It was oppressively foggy outside, so bad that Hazel could barely make out the shapes of his companions on either side of him. It was eerily quiet, with only their footsteps and harsh breathing to break the silence.

Every shadow looked like a crouching cat waiting to pounce, every strand of wind felt like the hot breath of a fox or dog on the back of their necks. The constant, nagging fear soon wore them to exhaustion.

Hazel staved off terror by looking after Fiver and Pipkin, holding their hands so they wouldn't get lost in the gloom and whispering encouragements to them under his breath. Somehow, making sure they weren't afraid kept _him_ from succumbing to fear.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking terrified in the dark, their trial ended. A great, gaping chasm loomed out of the darkness at Hazel's feet, and he barely avoided tumbling down into it. “There's a way down,” he hissed over his shoulder, and led the way back underground.

It felt like heaven to safe in the dark once more. As soon as they were all inside, they regrouped, laughing and grabbing each other, reassuring themselves that they had all made it through alive and in one piece.

“I have to admit, I didn't think you knew what you were doing,” Blackberry told Hazel in a low voice. “I was ready to turn and run half of the time. I should have known you'd come through for us, buddy!”

Hazel grinned as Blackberry clapped him on the shoulder, relieved that his bluff of confidence had worked.

After the long walk and all the fear and stress of going aboveground, there was a unanimous decision to call it a night and set up camp right there. Dandelion and Silver took first watch, and the others fell into a deep, contented sleep.

 

~~~

 

None of the previous night's cheer was left in the morning. Everyone was sore and tired, and arguments broke out over trivial things like who's turn it was to carry the packs and who got to have the last of the dried fruit.

Morale was low when they set out, and only got worse as they went along. Pipkin's foot started acting up again, and it got so bad that at one point Buckthorn had to carry him on his shoulders.

To add insult to injury, halfway through their march it began to rain, lukewarm water dripping down on them from broken pipes and cracks in the ceiling.

Eventually, they came to a huge, open cavern. Long cables and enormous pipes spiraled down the walls and across the floor; Hazel wondered what on earth they had been for when they were functioning.

Water was pooled in the open spaces between the pipes, deep enough that Hazel couldn't see the bottom. The idea of what might be hiding under the surface made his skin crawls, so he was careful not to slip.

“We should stop for a while,” Blackberry said, breathing hard. “I don't know about you, but if I have to walk one more step I'm literally going to pass out.”

Hazel nodded. “It doesn't look like we're in any danger here... Fiver? What do you think?”

Fiver didn't answer. He was standing some ways off, still and silent, his head cocked to one side like he was listening. Hazel shrugged and sat down.

Their “rest” wasn't very restful. It was damp and cold; spirits were low and tempers were high. Hazel put his head in his hands, fighting off a headache that wanted to take root behind his eyes.

He was beginning to regret leaving the bunker in the first place. They were all at the end of their strength and their wits, and if they had to go much further, the tenuous bond that held them together would snap, and they would start fighting among themselves- or worse, break up and go their separate ways.

Worse still, they were running out of supplies. They had a few water filters between them so they could drink what they found on the way, but food was scarce. Their clothes and boots would eventually wear out, and the lack of shelter was a constant source of stress.

Was Silver right? Had he encouraged them to leave the bunker, only for them to wander out in the wilderness until they died?

“Hazel?”

He jumped and blinked blearily, looking up. His heart sank as he realized Hawkbit was the one who'd called his name, flanked by Speedwell and a nervous-looking Acorn. Regardless, he stood up and tried to look alert and attentive. “Yes?”

The three exchanged glances, as though they hadn't quite planned what to do once they got Hazel's attention. Finally, Speedwell spoke up. “We were wondering- well, we want to know where exactly we're going. And how much further we have to go.”

Hazel bit his lip. “Well, I- I don't think we have a specific destination in mind- Fiver just said we should go north, and, well, I can't imagine it will be much farther before-”

“And that's another thing,” Hawkbit interrupted. “How exactly do we know that your brother isn't just leading us on? What's supposed to have happened back at the warren that was so terrible?”

The implied insult to his brother raised Hazel's hackles. “Fiver's predictions have been right again and again,” he snapped. “If he says there's a disaster headed for the warren, then it's lucky we got out when we still could.”

“But what _was_ the disaster?” Acorn asked quietly.

“I don't believe there _was_ any disaster,” Hawkbit sneered. “And we want to go back and find out!”

“Go back?” Bigwig had overheard their argument, and came striding over to loom over the band of teenagers. “You won't make it alive. You wanna go aboveground again? And dig your way through the tunnel collapse? And then cross the river and hope the lendri isn't sniffing about for tender young idiots like you to snack on? And even if you _did_ make it back, Captain Holly would have you all court marshaled!”

Speedwell and Acorn shrank back from Bigwig's scolding, but Hawkbit was not so easily cowed.“They wouldn't arrest _us_ ,” Hakwbit scoffed. “We're kids! We'll just say you kidnapped us.”

“Way to be grateful, brat!” Bigwig snarled. “You know what? You _should_ go back, and save us all from your whining.”

“Bigwig-” Hazel started, alarmed at how fast the argument was escalating, but Hawkbit interrupted him.

“We will! We'll be better off without you lot slowing us down,” the youngster growled back, balling his hands into fists as he glared up at Bigwig. “You and your owsla buddies are completely fucking useless; I'm sure Holly was just looking for an excuse to get rid of-”

Before the argument could escalate into a fight like Hazel feared, they were saved from the awkwardness of the situation by a sharp whistle from the far side of the chamber. They all looked up to see that Dandelion was pointing to a raised pipe several yards away- where a tall figure stood watching them.

They all froze, waiting for the person to realize they had been spotted, and react. But the figure did not move, or speak.

“What should we do?” Blackberry hissed.

“They don't look armed,” Speedwell murmured.

“Let's not count on that,” Bigwig said darkly.

“Should we go talk to them?” Blackberry asked Hazel.

He shrugged. “I see no harm in it. After all, there's one of them and a whole lot of us; what have we got to be afraid of? I'll go up and see what they want.”

“Then I'll come with you,” Bigwig said, shifting the grip on his rifle. He still looked

“Please don't point that thing at them,” Hazel said in exasperation. “Let's at least _try_ negotiation first, alright?”

"Do I seriously look like an idiot to you?" Bigwig grumbled, shouldering his gun. The two of them slowly made their way up the cables until they were shouting distance from the person.

He looked to be male, with long, pale hair hanging loosely about his shoulders. He was dressed in a white robe with embroidery at the collar.

Two details of his appearance stood out to Hazel- first, how immaculately _clean_ he looked, and second, he wasn't wearing any shoes.

He still didn't seem to have noticed them, so it was up to Hazel to make the first move.“Er- hello?” he called across the gap.

The man turned towards him, wearing a cool but not unfriendly smile. “Hello. You look like you've come a long way. You must be awfully tired.” His voice was deep and he spoke carefully and correctly, as though he weighed each and every word before he spoke it.

“Who are you?” Bigwig asked warily. “And what do you want with us?”

“My name is Cowslip, and I don't want anything. I just came to extend an offer of hospitality from my associates to you. You look so dreadfully cold and tired.”

“We're perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, thank you.” Bigwig crossed his arms and glared at Cowslip.

“I'm sure you are.” Cowslip didn't sound the least bit intimidated. He almost looked... bored.

Hazel put a hand on Bigwig's arm and stepped forward. “We don't mean to insult your hospitality. We've come a long way, and we weren't expecting to find shelter this far out. Is- is there a bunker somewhere nearby? Is that where you come from?”

Cowslip tilted his chin up, as though Hazel had said something sudden and offensive. But his voice remained smooth as he replied. “If you want to come in out of the rain, you're perfectly welcome. If you'll excuse me.” And he turned on his heel and walked through a hole in the wall Hazel hadn't noticed before.

Hazel stared after him. “...Well, what do you think? Do you suppose it's safe to go inside?”

“Whatever it's like in there, it can't be much worse then standing out here getting soggy,” Bigwig replied sensibly. “Besides, everyone's getting a little restless.”

Hazel shot him a quick glare. “No thanks to _you_.”

“Hey, kid, you look me in the face and tell me honestly that _you_ wouldn't like to give Hawkbit a black eye.”

Hazel made no reply- mostly because Bigwig was right, and he didn't want to admit it. Instead, he turned around and called out to the rest of them “We've found shelter! Come up here- be careful, the pipes are slippery.”

A quiet but enthusiastic cheer rose from the group, and everyone began scrambling towards them. Hazel pointed the door out to them, and they began to file through door, eager to get out of the wet and the cold.

Hazel stayed behind, counting heads and making sure Pipkin hadn't gotten left behind in the excitement. It wasn't until the whole group had passed him that he realized Fiver wasn't there.

He looked around frantically until he caught sight of the boy, sitting on the cable he'd left him on, still staring into the distance.

“Come on, Fiver!” Hazel carefully picked his way over to his brother's side. “Everyone else is inside already.”

Fiver turned to him, and his eyes were tight and concerned. “We shouldn't go inside, Hazel. It doesn't feel right.”

Hazel was half out of his mind with exhaustion, and his temper got the better of him. “Talk sense, Fiver. This is our only hope for shelter right now, and even if we _were_ in danger we couldn't convince the others to leave it now. So come _on.”_

Fiver bit his lip and frowned, but followed obediently enough.

The hole in the wall led into a dark, crampt tunnel. Long thin strands of _something_ hung from the ceiling; Hazel thought they were wires before he suddenly recognized the smell of damp soil and realized they were _roots._

After fighting his way down the tunnel for a long time, growing short of breath and patience, he stumbled into a bright, open space. It took a moment of blinking and shading his eyes before they adjusted, but when they did-

“Wow,” he whispered, and stared around himself in awe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally meet Cowslip! 
> 
> The next few chapters are, I feel, some of the best writing I've ever done.
> 
> *EDIT* So, if you've read this before, you may have noticed I made a change to this chapter- I took out the scene where Bigiwig punches Hawkbit.
> 
> Long story short, it was an awkward scene, and by the time I was done writing it just didn't seem to fit Bigwig's character very well. Because yeah, he had a short temper, but I don't think he'd strike someone impulsively like that, especially not a KID. The more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable it made me, so I took it out.


	6. The Temple

“ _They're very nice and kind,” answered Pipkin, “but I'll tell you how they strike me. They all seem terribly sad. I can't think why, when they're so big and strong and have this beautiful warren. But they put me in mind of trees in November.”_

 

It was like the main hall in Sandleford, with the rowen tree that grew in the center of the room and spread outwards, only on a much bigger scale. There were tales of such trees, which towered over all that stood in their presence, but Hazel had never really believed in them.

Well,  _ this  _ tree made Bigwig, the near seven-foot hulk of a man who hit his head on every doorframe and made small children run screaming  when he frowned at them , look like a beetle crawling across a leaf. 

Its branches were the ceiling and it's roots were the floor- it was like the chamber outside, but instead of cables and  pipes it was long, knotted roots, and instead  deep water in between it was soft, brown packed earth.

It was lit up with bright lanterns hung high in the branches, giving the whole place an eerie, almost ethereal glow. It was straight of out one of Dandelion's storybooks, and for a moment, all Hazel could do was stare around in awe.

The second thing he noticed, after the overwhelming beauty and majesty of the place, was how _empty_ it was. Up on the balcony where they were, he had a perfect birds-eye view of the place, but could only see a few men and women- in robes, with their hair long and loose like Cowslip- hurrying around the edges of the massive chamber.

“Oh, you decided to join us.” Hazel turned to see that Cowslip standing nearby. “How nice.”

“What _is_ this place?” breathed Dandelion. “It's- it's- well, it's like nothing else I've ever seen.”

Cowslip gave him a small smile. “This is the temple of Yew.”

“Me?” Dandelion pointed to his chest, confused.

“The yew _tree,_ Dandi.” Blackberry muttered. Dandelion turned bright red and stammered out an apology.

Cowslip laughed. “Our great Yew tree protects us. It shelters us from the rain and the fog, gives us water and good, clean earth to grow our food in.”

“Wow. I didn't know trees could get so big,” Blackberry said wonderingly.

“Yes, it is... most extraordinary.” Cowslip cleared his throat slightly. “You can take off your masks, if you like- I assure you the air in here is perfectly clean. And- Strawberry?”

A fresh-faced young man with long, bouncing pink-blonde curls stopped on the path beside them. “You need me, sir?”

“Please show our guests to the baths, if you will.” He shot the ragtag group a look of politely contained distaste. “There are many empty rooms in the temple. After you clean up, you are free to choose any you like.”

They followed Strawberry across a walkway and down a long, winding set of stairs. He led them down, past the ground-level to where the Yews roots made up the ceiling. On the way, Blackberry and Dandelion tried for some conversation.

“Who is Cowslip?” Blackberry asked. “Is he your chief?”

Strawberry shook his head, curls flying everywhere with the movement. “He is our high priest. Not a chief so much as a- a sort of _guide_ for the rest of us.”

“Speaking of the rest of you, where _is_ everybody?” Dandelion asked. “This is such a big place, there can't possibly be so few of you.”

Strawberry almost missed a step, narrowly avoiding a headlong tumble down the winding staircase. He righted himself, suddenly flustered. “Y-you'll have to meet my wife! I'm sure she- she'll be delighted to see you all. We never get travelers out this way.”

Dandelion shot a bewildered glance back at Hazel, who shrugged.

“You look a bit young to be tying the knot,” Bigwig commented.

Strawberry looked down, blushing and smiling foolishly. “We're a young couple,” he said fondly.

The baths, were, like everything else in the temple, strange and amazing and completely unfamiliar to them.

In Sandleford, there were four crampt recycling shower units that everyone in the bunker used, on a rotating weekly schedule. The water they spat out was cold in the winter and unpleasantly lukewarm in the summer and you got about five minutes before it shut off and the dry-cycle blew through.

So the large, steaming pools set with round, flat stone tiles were entirely incomprehensible to them. The whole group hung back, confused and afraid.

“Won't the water make us sick?” Acorn asked. They had all had the dangers of drinking or touching untreated water pounded into their heads since childhood.

“Not at all!” Strawberry assured them. “They're natural hot springs. The minerals are good for your skin and promote a long, healthy life.”

After a moment where nobody moved, he seemed to realize they would have to be convinced. “Don't be afraid; see, I'll get in first, to prove it's safe.” And he unhooked his robe and tossed it to the side before stepping into the nearest pool.

He didn't burst into flames or flop down dead, so Hazel supposed the water wasn't immediately dangerous- and if the temple residents used it on a regular basis, it couldn't have any harmful long-term effects either. So he shrugged, sat down and began unlacing his boots.

As soon as he sank into the water, he was overwhelmed with relief. It was as if the water was washing off all his worries and cares, all the aches and bruises from the road, every microscopic bit of dust draining away and leaving a clean haze of warmth in place of the filth. He had never been this clean. He had never been this  _relaxed_ . 

He was never getting out. He was going to live in this warm, wet heaven he'd found until the Black Rabbit of Inle called his name.

It took a few minutes for them all to get undressed and into the pool, but they all had similar reactions to the water as Hazel, and the room was soon filled with sighs of relief and giddy, punch-drunk laughter.

Only the former owsla knew how to swim, and even they had never spent much time in the water. But sinking into the hot-springs seemed to unlock some deep-seated instincts in them all, and soon almost everyone was paddling around and playing like children.

Bigwig started up an epic splash-fight with Hawkbit and his friends, forgetting their earlier quarrel. Silver kept submerging himself and coming back up, fascinated by the water's effect on his long hair. Strawberry was showing Pipkin and Buckthorn how gravity changed in the water, and they laughed delightedly as Pipkin was able to pull Buckthorn through the water by his arms.

Hazel, too tired to join in the fun, just sat to the side and watched. Fiver settled in next to him, and Hazel was glad he seemed a little less upset than before. Blackberry gravitated over to them, crouching low so the water was almost up to his ears- he didn't like getting naked around other people when he could help it. Dandelion, as per usual, stuck with Blackberry. The four of them sat in companionable silence.

It was maybe an hour and a half until they began to tire of their games and slowly file back out of the pool. Hazel was the last to leave, reluctant to give up the water's warm embrace, but his fingers and toes were beginning to wrinkle and he was afraid he might fall asleep if they left him there.

Their traveling clothes were taken away to be laundered, and in the meantime they were given white cotton robes like the rest of the temple residents wore. It was another kind of heaven altogether to slip clean clothes on over a clean body. Fiver, looked uncomfortable with his robe, however, and kept fidgeting like it was full of ants.

Once they were all dressed and had picked up their packs and weapons (Hazel was glad the temple-goers had left those alone) Strawberry led them back up the stairs and into a long hallway lined with doors. “Take any rooms you please; this whole wing is empty. If you need me, just go down to the end of the hall and take a right; I'm in the third wing, fifth door down on the right-hand side.” And he left them to choose their rooms and settle in for the night.

They broke up into four groups; the former owsla, Hawkbit's gang, Dandelion and Blackberry, and lastly, Hazel, Fiver, and Pipkin. They occupied four adjacent rooms, just in case there was an emergency and they had to gather quickly.

The beds were large and soft and Hazel didn't fall asleep so much as plummet the second his head hit the pillow. The very last thing he heard was Pipkin asking Fiver if he wanted to sleep on Hazel's right or his left, before he lost himself to sleep.


	7. Silverweed

_In autumn the leaves come blowing, yellow and brown._  
_They rustle in the ditches, they tug and hang on the hedge._  
_Where are you going, leaves? Far, far away_  
_Into the earth we go, with the rain and the berries._  
_Take me, leaves, O take me on your dark journey._  
_I will go with you, I will be rabbit-of-the-leaves,_  
_In the deep places of the earth, the earth and the rabbit._

 

The company was woken early next morning by a high, distant strain of song that wound its way through the halls and tunnels of the temple.

Hazel lay still for several long minutes, listening in wonder. Pipkin was sitting up in bed next to him, and Fiver was rummaging through something on the floor.

“It's so beautiful, but it sounds so... sad,” Pipkin whispered. “Like a lament.”

“I wonder why there are so many empty rooms,” Hazel asked slowly. “What happened here? A disaster, a disease?”

“Our clothes came up from the laundry,” Fiver said, interrupting their conversation.

Hazel turned to see that Fiver had changed back into his jeans and red hoodie, pulling the hood up like armour. He looked nervous, and his eyes had dark circles under them.

He was worried about his brother, but it was too early to start asking questions. _I'll talk to him later_ , Hazel thought.

Pipkin decided to change back into his regular clothes too. For his part, Hazel liked the robes, but he pulled his boots on before he left.

Strawberry was waiting for them outside, looking unnaturally cheerful for the early hour. “Good morning! I'm to take you to breakfast, and then, if you're up to it, perhaps you could join in our work for today?”

“That sounds fine,” Hazel said. “I have to ask, what was that music just now?”

“We sing every day in the mornings. It's a prayer to our great Yew, for it to continue to shelter and provide for us.”

“It's beautiful,” Pipkin said, and Strawberry beamed at the compliment.

The rest of them slowly emerged from their rooms, yawning and stretching. Dandelion, Acorn and Buckthorn had changed into robes like Hazel had, but the rest of them had chosen to keep their original clothes on. Bigwig had a lazy, comfortable air to him as he greeted them, but Hazel noticed he was wearing his protective vest and one of his pistols.

Strawberry led them down a wide flight of stairs which curled into a room built in the center of the Yew tree itself. It had a high ceiling, and was lit by the same kind of lanterns that were outside.

In the center of the room, the temple-goers were gathered around a long, crescent-shaped table, piled high with food. Mushrooms, fungi and beans, staples of an underground diet, had been cooked into unfamiliar but tempting dishes, accented with fresh fruit, nuts, dried herbs and rich sauces.

Hazel couldn't keep from staring open-mouthed at the magnificent spread.

“I- is this some kind of feast?” Dandelion asked in a low voice. “Is today a holiday, or-?”

Strawberry cocked his head in confusion. “No, it's just an ordinary breakfast. Go ahead and sit where you like; there's plenty to go around.”

Bigwig was the first to take him up on the offer, sitting down and helping himself to generous amounts of everything he could reach. The rest of them followed his example, happy to see so much food in one place after days of nibbling on roots and dried mushrooms.

With everyone gathered around the table, it became painfully obvious just how underpopulated the temple was. There were maybe thirty of them all together, more women than men, a few wide-eyed, quiet children, and Cowslip sitting tall and proud in an ornate chair.

Bunkers became overcrowded quickly. It was a fact of life that there was always too little room and too many kids being born... unless something was wrong.

 _It couldn't have been a disease_ , Hazel thought. _Everyone looks so healthy_. Their skin glowed, their hair was glossy and thick, and their eyes were bright and clear.

There was, however, an odd sense of... wariness? Or was it sadness? That seemed to hang over the temple like fine mist. But he supposed they might just be nervous about the newcomers. He didn't want to judge these people too harshly, especially when they had been so kind.

Hazel ended up sitting next to Strawberry, who introduced him to his wife. “This is Nildro-hain,” he said, his voice dripping with pride and love.

Nildro-hain was a pretty young woman with short red hair and an infectious smile. She leaned around Strawberry to shake Hazel's hand. “It's exciting to have visitors; no one travels through this area anymore.”

“We can tell; the road here was rough and the tunnels looked abandoned. Are there no other bunkers nearby?”

Nildro-hain shrugged noncommittally. “We know of none.”

She sounded a little annoyed, and Hazel decided to change the subject. “How long have you two been together?”

Strawberry blushed and ducked his head. “Has it been six months?” he asked Nildro-hain shyly.

“Seven.” she smiled fondly and ruffled her husband's hair. “It's gone by so fast. We're very happy together.”

“Any plans for kids?” Bigwig asked from across the way.

Nildro-hain laughed and shook her head. “Not that quickly! We want to wait a year or two at least.”

“But not too long,” Strawberry interjected, leaning in to kiss his wife's cheek.

“Where do you raise children here?” Blackberry asked. “Is there a nursery somewhere, or will you just stay in your own rooms?”

“It looks like we're on irrigation duty today, love.” Nildro-hain said, as though Blackberry hadn't even spoken. Strawberry nodded without looking up, suddenly engrossed in mashing his beans into a paste with his spoon.

Hazel frowned in confusion, but was soon distracted by the conversation going on around him.

~

After breakfast, there was work. The newcomers got split up, and Hazel, Bigwig and Blackberry were set to work harvesting.

Their farming methods were ingenious; mushrooms and fungi grew in damp, shadowed spots on the yew's massive roots, and other crops grew in the soft dirt between them, separated neatly to avoid cross-pollination, and allowing them to regulate how much light and water each type of crop got.

Pollinator beetles crawled across dew-covered leaves, and the earth was teeming with worms. It put Sandleford's small, struggling excuse for a garden to shame.

Hazel and the others were given baskets and sent to scramble up one root after another, collecting mushrooms. It wasn't hard work but the climbing got to them all after a while, and they were happy to rest when a short, quavering piece of song announced break time.

They sat together in the shadow of the tree to relax. “Y'know, this place is _weird_ , but I'm glad we came here.” Bigwig said, grabbing a mushroom from his basket and popping it into his mouth.

“Don't eat them _raw_ Bigwig, that's disgusting!” Blackberry complained.

“A little dirt never hurt anyone.” Bigwig picked up another one and pushed it into his mouth, biting down slowly and deliberately to elicit a squeal of disgust from Blackberry.

Hazel sighed, hoping that the mushrooms were edible before they were cooked. “I wonder where the kitchens are?” he asked idly.

“Try asking one of this lot 'where' anything,” Bigwig muttered.

Hazel turned to him sharply. “You noticed that too?”

“Hard _not_ to. Like I said, this place is weird. But who are we to judge? _We're_ a bit weird, that's for sure.” He crossed his arms behind his head. “Like I said, we're lucky to be here. Good food, clean air, those fucking _decadent_ baths... no more fighting, no more suffering. We're golden.”

Just then one of the other workers, a man named Betony, walked up to them. “If you're up to it, we have some more work to do in this field and then we'll stop for lunch. How does that sound?”

Hazel got to his feet, brushing dirt off the front of his robe. “That sounds fine, thank you.”

“I was wondering,” Blackberry began, “do you ever harvest the yew berries?” He pointed up at the ceiling of intertwining branches, and Hazel was confused for a moment until he realized that the branches were speckled with small, dark-red berries.

For a moment, Betony's face contorted, mouth opening and eyes widening in an almost _fearful_ expression. But the look passed so quickly that Hazel wondered if he had imagined it, and he smiled. “No, they're too high for us to reach. If you'll excuse me,” and he hurried back off across the field to let the rest of the team know that break time was over.

Something about his answer niggled at the back of Hazel's mind, like an itch he couldn't quite reach. But he lost the thought as he worked, his mind comfortably dulled by the repetition of climbing and plucking and watching his basket pile higher and higher with food.

~

After a brief lunch break, work stretched on through most of the afternoon. When it was done, everyone returned to the central hall for supper.

After the meal, there was a relaxed, sociable air to the hall. The newcomers took this chance to mingle, and Hazel was satisfied to see his friends spread around the room, talking and laughing with the temple-goers.

All but one of them, that was. Fiver leaned up against Hazel's side and clung to his sleeve, looking miserable.

Hazel ran a hand through the boy's hair. “Where did you end up working today?” he asked, hoping to cheer him up.

“I didn't work,” Fiver muttered. “I waited out in the tunnels for you until you were done.”

Hazel frowned but before he had the chance to reply, Cowslip walked over to them. “Was the food to your liking?”

“Very much,” Hazel answered.

“Good, good... say, some of our little ones are requesting a story. We often have stories and songs in the evening, you know... would one of your group be so kind as to start us off?”

“Of course. Dandelion?” Hazel turned to Dandelion, who was sitting across from him and talking to a woman holding a baby. “You want to tell us a story?”

“Sure.” Dandelion sat up. “Which one should I tell?”

“Do The King's Lettuce,” Blackberry suggested. “That always makes everyone laugh and feel at ease.”

Dandelion nodded, and stood up to address the room at large. He cleared his throat once, then began. “This is the story of El-ahrairah and the King's lettuce.”

Dandelion told the old favorite well, using different voices for each character, adding just the right mix of humour and tension, and everyone from Sandleford smiled to hear such a good rendition of a familiar story.

The temple residents seemed less happy. They applauded politely at the end, but started muttering restlessly among themselves.

“Ah, thank you very much, Dandelion,” Cowslip said, his face cool and distant.

Dandelion frowned. “I don't understand, did I do something wrong? Everyone usually loves that story. Er, no offense intended.”

“None taken, none taken.” Cowslip cleared his throat delicately. “While we certainly find the- er, old folk stories to be charming, we generally see them as rather... old fashioned. El-ahrairah and his tricks- again, most charming. But in the temple, we have no need for trickery or deception. What serves us best is dignity, and the will to accept our fate.”

Hazel was shocked. El-ahrairah was a symbol to those that lived underground; that no matter how bad circumstances were, there was hope for the future if you dared to reach for it. He had never heard anyone dismiss the old stories like that before.

But the temple-goers who had heard Cowslip speak were nodding and murmuring assent, as if he had just spoken some deep truth.

“One of our local poets -a youth by the name of Silverweed- has put it quite eloquently. In fact, he is present tonight; if he is willing, would you like to hear him speak?”

Hazel shut his mouth and nodded dumbly.

The crowd of temple-goers parted, and a boy no older than Fiver stepped out and took the floor. He was a pale, slim thing, with tufty silver hair and enormous brown eyes. He stared out at the crowd but didn't seem to see individual faces.

He began to speak, and his high, uncertain voice spilled out words like water dripping unsteadily from the end of a pipe. His poem was strange and abstract, and Hazel could make little sense of it.

But as he watched the boy fiddle with his sleeves and stare into space, as though looking out across the dark road he described, Hazel was overtaken by a sudden sense of dread.

He blinked hard and tried to shake it off. He turned to Fiver, at his side, and saw that his brother was caught in a similar state; his eyes were wide and he trembled, horror growing on his face at each passing word from the boy's lips.

Finally he whispered “I can't take any more of this”, and ran from the hall, his boots echoing noisily as he barreled his way through the crowd and out the door.

“Fiver! Come back here!” Hazel ran after him, muttering apologies as he pushed past the temple-goers.

He caught up to him further up the staircase leading back to their rooms. “What has gotten _into_ you?!” he growled, grabbing the boy's wrist to keep him in place. “You've never acted out like this before!”

“Can't you see, Hazel? Can't you _feel_ it?” Fiver looked half hysterical as he hissed out his words. “This whole place is _wrong_ , we shouldn't _be_ here, we should never have come inside-!”

Hazel's grip tightened. “Enough! Just because these people are different than us doesn't make them _bad_!”

“You're scared too,” Fiver shot back. “You're all afraid, and you're angry because I'm the only one not pretending this place isn't _wrong_!”

Hazel's patience snapped. “Well maybe you're just angry because for once, you made a prediction that didn't come true! Maybe you just need to _get OVER yourself for once in your life!_ ” By the end of the sentence, he was almost yelling, and his face was hot from anger.

Fiver's face fell- for a moment, he looked every inch the lost, scared child that he was. “They think I'm crazy. They all do. But you _know_ I'm not, and you still treat me like this!”

Hazel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen- you're tired. We're _all_ tired. We should go to bed, and you need to actually get some _sleep_ tonight.”

“Don't do this to me, Hazel.” Fiver was pleading now. “Please. Just _listen_.”

“It's for your own good,” Hazel insisted, and he pulled Fiver along the tunnel, back towards the gathering.

~

After a brief apology for his brother's behavior, (“Think nothing of it,” Cowslip had said with a wave of his hand.) they trekked back up the staircase towards their rooms.

Fiver trailed after him like he was being dragged along by a rope around his neck, and Hazel felt terrible for shouting at him. He was overwhelmed with guilt- and, if he was being honest with himself, more than a little fear.

Because Fiver had been right about one thing; he was afraid. Silverweed's poem had chilled him to the core, and he couldn't shake the lingering sense of anxiety even as he washed and got ready for bed.

But what was he to do? They had no _proof_ that there was anything wrong with the temple. If he gathered the rest of them and said 'I've got a funny feeling about this place, we'd better leave,' they would laugh at him- or worse, get angry.

Fiver and him had always been outsiders. Out here, with these people... well, it almost felt like they _belonged_.

He couldn't bring himself to give that up. Not just yet.

That night, with Pipkin sleeping peacefully on his right and Fiver laying quiet but obviously awake on his left, it took him a long time to fall asleep.

Just as he was beginning to drift off, something clicked in his mind, and his eyes snapped open.

The lanterns.

If Betony was right and the reason they didn't harvest the yew-berries was because they were too high up- then who had hung the lanterns high up in the trees? And who kept them lit?

And more importantly, now that he could s _ee_ the obvious flaw in Betony's logic... Why had he lied to them in the first place?


	8. A Roof of Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING- This chapter is where the violence warning kicks in. 
> 
> Also, there's some casual ableist language. (I apologize if I haven't tagged for that in previous chapters.)

“ _I tell you I'll have nothing to do with the place,” said Fiver. “As for going underground, I'd rather go back over the heather. The roof of that hall is made of bones.”_

 

They were sitting in a small, round room. The floor was soft dirt and the walls were thick, knotted roots, and they were all sitting around a stump for a table; all of them except Fiver.

_ Where's he got to this time? _ Hazel thought, briefly annoyed.

They were playing cards. Cowslip was trying to teach them how to play some game native to the temple, but the rules were ridiculously complicated and Hazel kept loosing the thread of the conversation.

Bigwig didn't seem interested in the game; in the middle of the table was a large wooden bowl filled with plump red yew berries, and he kept grabbing big handfuls of them and stuffing them into his mouth.

“You'll make yourself sick,” Hazel admonished him.

“Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud, 'Hazel-Rah'” Bigwig joked. He grinned widely, and juice from the berries leaked out from between his teeth like blood.

Hazel suddenly felt very unwell. He clutched his stomach and whimpered pitifully. “I want to go home.”

“Play the game, Hazel.” Cowslip told him. “You'll feel better if you play the game with us.”

“But I don't know how,” Hazel complained. “I don't understand the rules.”

Cowslip glared at him. “That's because you  don't listen! That will be your undoing, Hazel-Rah.” When _ he _ put the title at the end of Hazel's name, it somehow didn't sound like a joke.

Suddenly, he thought he heard Fiver calling his name, faintly, as though he was a long, long way away. He sat up and twisted around, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

When he looked back to the table, it was empty, except for Cowslip sitting directly across from him. Bigwig's cards were laid face-up on the table, droplets of red juice spilled across their worn faces.

A chill went down Hazel's spine.“Where's Bigwig?” he asked warily.

Cowslip  snarled. He jumped to his feet and slammed his fists onto the table. “ You  _ DO NOT LISTEN! _ ” 

The anger abruptly drained from him, and he straightened the collar of his robe. “That is your greatest flaw, and yet you will continue to repeat the same mistakes, Hazel-Rah. There is simply no teaching you.”

“I don't understand,” repeated Hazel.

“You will.” Cowslip held up one hand, two fingers held out and the rest curled back, imitating a gun. “Bang.”

A horrible bolt of pain ripped through Hazel's chest, and he doubled over, too shocked to even make a sound as his body convulsed with agony. He was in a long, dark tunnel, the scent of blood in his nose, the taste of it in his mouth, and his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. He tried to move, he tried to  _ scream _ -

~

Hazel jolted awake with a choked cry, startling Pipkin out of sleep next to him. “Wha- what's wrong? Hazel?”

He panted, staring around in lingering terror from his dream.

He was in their room at the temple- the one he'd picked out the night before last, with the soft bed and the walls made of roots. He sighed, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I'm fine, Pip. Just a dream.”

Pipkin gave him an awkward hug. “You're alright now. Hey- where's Fiver?”

Hazel's head snapped to the side so quickly he strained a muscle in his neck. The little depression in the covers where Fiver had been curled up next to him- it was empty.

He hopped up and almost fell out of bed in his haste, rubbing his neck with one hand as he yanked on his trousers and boots. “I'm going to go look for him. He was so upset last night I'm afraid he might have done something stupid. Tell the others where I've gone if they ask, ok?”

“Be careful,” Pipkin said, brow furrowed in concern.

Hazel gave him a quick nod, and dashed out of the room.

No sooner had he ran out of the door than he almost crashed into Bigwig. “Whoah, kid, where's the fire?”

For a moment, Hazel was reluctant to tell him, afraid he might make a bigger deal out of it than necessary- but then he realized that Bigwig's size and strength would be useful if Fiver didn't want to come back on his own. So he explained the situation as quickly as he could.

Bigwig rolled his eyes. “That little moron. I'll help you find him before he hurts himself.”

From talking to temple-goers they met on the way, they pieced together that early in the morning Fiver had left his room, dressed in his travel gear and carrying a large bag. He had left the temple through the same door they had entered two days ago.

 _Why didn't you stop him?!_ Hazel wanted to scream, but he supposed it wasn't their job to look after him.  No, that was Hazel's job- and he'd failed miserably.

They found Fiver climbing across the pipes outside, slipping on wet patches and scrambling for purchase with trembling hands. His gasmask was on and a bag was slung over one shoulder, too large a burden for his skinny frame.

“Fiver, wait!” Hazel called to him from the doorway, and hurried to catch up.

Fiver stopped, and when they reached him he was standing very still, staring out into the darkness. “I'm going away,” he said, looking weary but determined.

Bigwig scowled. “Talk sense; you can't go back, and where else could you go?”

“I can see it.” Fiver's eyes went wide and dreamy. “A high, lonely place, where we can see all around, where we can build a new life for ourselves. But I don't suppose any of you want to come with me. I'm just crazy, after all.” His words turned bitter, and he looked away.

“But you'll die.” Hazel said, and the mere thought of losing his brother sent a stab of pain through his heart.

Fiver turned to him, and his blank expression was chilling. “You are closer to death than I.”

“That's _it_!”  Both brothers jumped at Bigwig's sudden shout. He stomped forward, using every inch of his considerable height to loom over Fiver. “I have had _enough_ of your bullshit! You're just a self-centered little  ass who thinks he can lead us all around by our noses because he's got some 'special power'.” Bigwig wiggled his fingers and made a mocking “woooo” noise.

“Bigwig,” Hazel tried to interrupt him, but the man was on a roll.

“'But I'm in a mist, Hazel!' 'I've got a funny feeling in my toe, so we must all stand on our heads!'” Bigwig continued to mock him. “Well, I for one have had enough of it, so if you're taking off then _good riddance!_ ” Bigwig straightened up with a sneer. “Come on Hazel, let's go back and-”

Hazel shook his head.“I'm going with him,” he said.

They both stared at him, Fiver in shock and Bigwig in disbelief.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I can't let him go alone, can I? And if we drag him back he'll only try and escape again.”

“Hazel...Do you- will you really?” Fiver whispered, somewhere between hope and suspicion.

Hazel's face softened. “Yes, of course I will, Hrair-roo. It's always been you and me, hasn't it? And if you say we need to leave... I should have listened to you in the first place. I mean, you haven't been wrong yet.”

Fiver's face broke out a grin that was easily distinguishable even from behind his mask, and Hazel felt a relief greater than sinking into a hot bath.

Bigwig stared back and forth between them. “You two- you're both  _ insane _ ! What the hell is supposed to be wrong with this place?! We  _ finally _ found a place we could be happy, and now you just want to ruin it for us?! Well fuck that! I'm finished with the pair of you, and I'm going to go back and make sure everyone else is, too!” And he turned and barreled off back towards the  temple , grumbling a string of curses the entire way.

Hazel sighed, and turned back to Fiver. It hurt to think they'd lost Bigwig's good opinion, but that sting was barely noticeable in comparison to the warm glow of contentment from being back on good terms with his brother. “I- I'm sorry for the way I treated you. Can you forgive me?”

Fiver hugged him hard, nuzzling up against his chest. “Of course I do. Of course.”

Hazel hugged the boy hard and buried his face in his hair. Even if it was just the two of them against the world, he had his brother back.

That was enough.

~

Bigwig shouldered his way through the doorway, grumbling as he squeezed into the small tunnel beyond.

His unusual size was an advantage in many situations, but this was not one of them. He'd had trouble with low doorways and small passages ever since he hit puberty, when he started growing and never really stopped until he was about Hazel's age.

Hazel. He felt a strange mixture of pain and anger and frustration and guilt when he thought of him.

Frith damn it all, he _liked_ Hazel. Bigwig had always known him to be a sensible fellow, but along their journey he'd proven himself to be a level headed, determined, capable leader.

He'd never say it to the boy's face, but Bigwig thought that, given a few years, he could be a decent chief someday.

And now he had to run off and get himself killed because his dumbass little brother had itchy feet!

Bigwig was angry. He was  _furious_ ! 

He was also more than a little guilty that, if that really was the last he'd ever see of Hazel and Fiver, his final act had been to yell and curse at them.

His frustration was only heightened by the way he had to struggle through the long tangling vines, or branches or roots or  _whatever_ it was that clogged the tunnel, clinging to him as though they had a mind of their own and were unwilling to let him go.

  
When he finally stumbled free of the vines, ripping about half of them clean out in the process, he felt something cold drip from his forehead to his nose. He reached up and his fingers slid through a thick, slimy liquid. When he looked at his hand he was shocked to see that his fingertips were coated in blood.

Had he cut himself somehow, fighting through the vines? He couldn't  _feel_ any injury... he licked  at the substance, and wrinkled his nose at the bitter taste. Definitely not blood.

He felt at his forehead again, and a thin pinkish skin peeled away from the glob of red stuff.  _It's one of those red berries Blackberry was going on about,_ he realized.  _No wonder they don't eat them; it tastes like untreated water._

He wiped his mouth and began walking again, only to stop short as he almost ran right over a petite young woman standing in his way. “Hey, watch it!” he growled.

She stared up at him, her eyes widening and mouth dropping open in absolute horror.

The back of his neck prickled at her sudden, eerie stare. “What are you looking at?” he muttered.

“You have been marked,” she whispered, and her voice was somewhere between reverence and pure, unadulterated terror.

Ok, he was getting a little freaked out. “Um- yeah. Er, this isn't blood, y'see, its one of those-”

Her head flopped back and she let out a high, trilling sound that was almost music. Bigwig jumped back, heart pounding. “What the fuck is  _wrong_ with you?!”

Out of nowhere he was suddenly surrounded by men and women in robes. Before he could react, a large square of cloth was pushed over his face, and as he breathed in the bitter scent of yew berries, the world turned dizzy and strange.

He fell, and was lost in fog before he could hit the ground.

~

Hazel sighed. “I suppose I should go back; I need my clothes and my pack, and I should tell the others we're leaving. I don't look forward to facing Bigwig again, though.”

“I'll come with you,” Fiver said, taking hold of his hand. “I think I can stand going inside one more time if you're with me.”

Hazel took him up on the offer, and together they walked back into the light of the temple.

It was strangely empty, even more than usual. “Where is everyone?” Hazel asked warily.

Fiver clung to his arm. “Oh Hazel... Hazel, I think something very bad has happened.”

A little further on, they met Pipkin, who was panting and red in the face, as though he'd run all the way down to meet them. “Hazel, Fiver, thank Frith you're here- they've taken Bigwig!”

“Who's taken him? What happened?” Hazel reached out to grab Pipkin by the shoulders, steadying him. “Breathe, Pip. What's wrong?”

Pipkin took in a gasping breath. “There was this crowd of people- it looked like everyone from the temple. And they were dragging Bigwig along with them, he looked- I-I think he was asleep, he didn't seem- well, I don't _think_ he was  d\- and I-I tried to talk to Cowslip, he was leading them, I tried to ask where they were taking him- and he said 'don't ask such questions', and shoved me out of the way!”

Hazel's heart plummeted. It was just as he had feared, and refused to admit to himself. Fiver was right; there was something horribly wrong about this place. “It's alright now. Do you have any idea where they were taking him?”

Pipkin shook his head miserably. “I'm all turned around, I don't know- it looked like they were headed down, but-”

“Down, down, into the roots and the earth.” Fiver's voice interrupted Pipkin, and they turned to see that he had gone stiff and his face was a dozen shades too pale. “Down in the blood and the earth and the berries, down, down, down, beneath the roof of bones-”

“Can you see it?” Hazel touched the side of Fiver's face. “Can you see where they've taken him?”

“I- I can. Oh Frith, it's terrible, it's-”

“Can you lead us down there?”

Fiver met his eyes, and nodded tightly.

Hazel straightened up. “Pipkin, go get the others. Tell them to meet us in the dining hall, and bring their weapons. We're going to find Bigwig and no matter what's happened, we're going to get him out of there.”

~

Bigwig's eyes rolled open.

Colours and shapes whirled above him in no recognizable pattern, and he blinked hard, trying to put the world back into focus.

Finally, his vision sharpened and cleared, and he could see Cowslip standing over him, smiling in a way that was neither friendly nor comforting.

He tried to sit up, but something tugged at his arms, and when he struggled he realized that he was bound hand and foot.

He also realized that he was naked. Some dim, remote part of his brain told him he should probably be upset about that, but he couldn't quite remember why.

“Mmmfgh... whrr... wherrrre ammmIiii?” He slurred, his tongue thick and clumsy.

In response, Cowslip slapped him hard across the face. This hurt, but it also cleared his head a little. “Wha- whawazzat for?” he grumbled, tilting his head back and forth to try and get rid of the ringing in his ears.

“You are special,” Cowslip said, his voice soft and fond. “It is an honor to be marked by our great Yew.” He ran a hand down Bigwig's bare chest, making him shudder.

He gave a weak grin. “Y'know, if you wanted me tied up naked in your bed, ya could've just _asked_.” He noted with interest that he seemed to have lost what little  brain-to-mouth filter he'd previously had.

The priest ignored his comment, still stroking aimless patterns on his skin. “But it won't mean anything to you if you don't know the stories; the  _histories_ . Silverweed! Tell our honored brother of our great Yew.”

Bigwig lifted his head and saw that he and Cowslip were not alone in- he had no idea where they were. Some dank, red-dirt chamber that smelled of damp earth and mildew and a musky, disturbing scent he couldn't quite place. What looked like every single resident of the temple was gathered around the room, staring at him. Strawberry was there, and Nildro-hain, their faces impassive.

Silverweed stepped out from the crowd. He was just as spindly and bug-eyed as Bigwig remembered, and he spoke slowly, haltingly, as though reluctant to let the words leave his mouth. “Long ago, our ancestors lived in the shelter of the yew tree, under the sun and the wind and the rain. There was peace, and light, and harmony.”

“But then came the fire, and the fog, and the air began to sear the very flesh from their bones. They begged the Yew for salvation, and they were saved, as the Yew sealed them underground to live in peace.

The boy swallowed. “But there was a price. In payment for the shelter, for the food and the clean air, there must be a sacrifice made, whenever the Yew demands.” Silverweed wrung his hands as he spoke, and his voice quavered. “A sacrifice of- of flesh, and blood.”

Cowslip made a grand gesture towards one wall. “You see? Tokens of remembrance from our siblings who gave their lives to the Yew.”

Bigwig frowned, trying to understand what he was looking at. Tacked up to the wall of spiraling roots were large, heavy sheets of... was that fabric, or paper, or-

His stomach flipped over when he realized it was  _skin,_ hung on the wall like a piece of art. He lolled his head back and closed his eyes, biting his lip to combat the sudden nausea that had overtaken him. “Frith above. You're  _sick_ .”

“We are _saved_.” Bigwig winced away from the feeling of fingers in his hair. “And you have been marked, to be the vessel of our salvation.”

“So- so let me get this straight.” Bigwig shook his head, the first pangs of a headache thrumming in the base of his skull. “A berry fell on my head, and now I'm going to be ritualistically sacrificed by some crackpot cult?"

“As I said; it is a great honor to be chosen,” Cowslip whispered, his voice crawling and insidious. Bigwig wanted to shut his ears to the awful sound.

“Where are my friends?” He mumbled. “Please Frith tell me you haven't done anything to them.”

Another harsh slap across his face, this time sparking stars across his vision. “You must NEVER ask that question!” Cowslip snarled. “Why do you stupid creatures never  _learn_ ?!”

“What, 'where'?” Bigwig deliberately growled out. “Because 'where' might just mean 'hanging from the wall like a fucking trophy'?! I suppose you can't let yourselves get too attached to each other when one of you might be offed at any- OW!”

Cowslip shook out his hand from the third slap. “You speak too much for your own good. I see you will have to be sedated for the ritual.” He gave a low, cooing whistle, and suddenly a pair of hands were holding another stinking cloth over Bigwig's nose.

“Go back to sleep, Bigwig,” Cowslip murmured. “It won't hurt when you're asleep.”

Bigwig struggled to keep his eyes open, but Cowslip's sickly-sweet voice carried him away, floating off into the mist until he was lost entirely.

~

Hazel kept a firm grip on Fiver's hand as the boy led them down stairways and along tunnels. It got darker and darker as they went, as the lanterns hung from the ceiling and walls became more and more scarce.

By the time they reached the room where Bigwig had been taken, Fiver was quivering with fear. Hazel told him he could stay outside and wait, but he just clung harder to his brother's arm, shaking his head fiercely.

Buckthorn pressed the butt of his gun up against the ornately carved door, and looked over at Hazel. “Well?”

He took a deep, steadying breath, then nodded sharply.

Buckthorn and Silver bashed the door in, and they stormed through. “Give Bigwig _back_ ,” Buckthorn snarled.

They were immediately assaulted by the scent of blood. The roots all around the cavern were stained rusty-red and- and dear Frith, what was that hanging from the walls? Hazel's head spun, and he could hear someone whimpering and retching behind him.

Bigwig was passed out (Hazel refused to consider any other reason for his closed eyes and slack jaw,) tied down upon a white stone alter. Cowslip was standing over him, the long, cruel knife in his hands already biting into Bigwig's shoulder.

Seeing them, he pulled the knife free and pointed it towards the intruders. “This is a holy place. You will leave.  _Now_ .”

“Or what?” Silver growled, leveling his own gun at the priest. “You may outnumber us, but we outgun you.”

“If you don't stand down _immediately_ ,” Buckthorn said, his voice hard and sharp, belying his usual sweet nature. “We'll kill every single one of you.”

Hazel was shocked, but couldn't bring himself to be horrified; if it was just him, he would have fought Cowslip, knife, gun, or with his bare hands, to rescue Bigwig.

Bigwig was _theirs_ , and they weren't going to let him go.

Cowslip regarded them cooly for several long, aching moments. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered the knife. His eyes burned with rage.

“Dandelion, Buckthorn, untie Bigwig and get him out of here.” Silver ordered. The two men rushed to obey.

Silver motioned Hawkbit and Speedwell forward to help cover them as they made their retreat from the horrible, bloodstained chamber.

Cowslip watched as they left, and the look of cold, pure anger in his eyes would haunt Hazel for the rest of his life.

~

As soon as they were out of immediate danger, Hazel started calling out instructions. “Buckthorn, get Bigwig out as quick as you can. The rest of you, we're going back to our rooms to get our things. We won't survive if we leave them behind.”

None of them had really settled enough to unpack, so it was easy to gather their things and haul them back down the great staircase. The temple no longer seemed bright and beautiful; the twisting roots looked like bones embedded into the dirt, and Hazel felt horrible exposed by the light from above, as though some great force was peering into his soul.

When they finally left the temple, the cool and dark of the outside world was comforting. But all Hazel could think of was Bigwig. He made his way over to where everyone was crowded around his unconscious body. Someone has draped a blanket over him, for modesty's sake. “Is he alright? Has he woken up?”

“He's still breathing, and we patched his shoulder, but he won't wake up.” Buckthorn's bravado had dropped, and now he looked scared.

“How could they do this to him?” Silver was simmering with quiet outrage. “How could those _monsters_ -”

“They don't deserve to live here,” Hawkbit said. “We should kill them and take this place for ourselves!”

Speedwell murmured his assent, while Acorn sat down with his head between his knees, overwhelmed.

“And what will that make us?” Dandelion spat back. “Murderers, just like them.”

Hawkbit flushed with shame and looked down.

“But if we do leave them alive, what happens when someone else wanders through here?” Blackberry asked. “If we leave them be, they'll keep drawing people in and killing them.”

“No one but us is stupid enough to come this way,” Silver said bitterly.

“Ughh, my _head.._.”  They all jumped as a hoarse voice broke their discussion. Bigwig had opened his eyes, and was trying to struggle up from the ground.

“Bigwig!” Hazel shouted joyfully, then, “don't try to move, you're hurt!”

“I'm fine,” Bigwig growled, and Buckthorn lunged forward to hold him up when he wobbled. “I've had worse in the owsla.”

“At least back at Sandleford we could take you to the medical bay,” Silver said, his words dry but his expression concerned. “Out here, all we can do is tape you up and hope for the best.”

“Doesn't matter,” Bigwig grunted. He tilted his head back, trying to look around at the group of them. “Fiver? Fiver, you here?”

“I'm here, Bigwig.” Fiver put a hand on the man's uninjured shoulder.

Bigwig sighed with relief and, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable, he reached up to clasp Fiver's hand. “I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry for the way I treated you. You were right, and I was stupid, and almost got carved up because of it.”

“Thank you,” Fiver said earnestly.

“Hazel?” Bigwig leaned up to catch his eye. “You care to tell them?”

Somehow, Hazel knew exactly what he meant. He stood up. “From now on, we all listen to Fiver. We go where he tells us, and we don't stop until he says we've arrived. Does everyone understand?”

There was an enthusiastic, slightly ashamed muttering of agreement all around. After this, no one would dream of questioning Fiver's judgment.

Fiver himself was embarrassed by the attention, and he pulled his hood down further and hunched his shoulders up. Hazel rubbed his arm soothingly.

“Well, what are we all hanging around for?” Bigwig said. “Let's get the fuck outta here before Cowslip and his cult decide to come after us with torches and pitchforks!”

It took them a few minutes to get organized; everyone had to get their gasmasks on, and there was a brief argument because Bigwig wanted to walk under his own power, which he was definitely not capable of. Finally, he agreed to let Dandelion and Speedwell support him from either side, rather than being carried by Buckthorn.

They hadn't made it very far from the temple when a loud cry made them all jump and turn. Silver drew a bead on the source of the noise- a man with long blond hair who staggered unevenly out of the temple, and all but crawled across the pipes towards them.

It was Strawberry, and he looked terrible. He sobbed and moaned as he stumbled towards them, his pupils mere pinpricks in his bloodshot eyes.

“What the hell?” Dandelion hissed, sounding as spooked as Hazel felt.

They slowed down so he could catch up, although Silver kept his gun trained on him the entire time. When Strawberry finally reached them, he fell to his knees, breathing hard. “Please... please take me with you!”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn't blow your head right off,” Silver snarled.

“Silver, stop. He can't hurt us.” Hazel walked forward and knelt down in front of Strawberry. “What happened?”

“The- the sacrifice,” Strawberry whispered, trembling. “You- you took the Marked, but the sacrifice had to be made... and they- _th-they took Nildro-hain_.” He let out a keening sob of pain and put his head in his hands, weeping uncontrollably and rocking back and forth.

Hazel sat back on his heels. “Oh Frith. I- I'm sorry, Strawberry. I... I'm so sorry.”

Buckthorn sat down beside him. “He can come with us, can't he?” he asked, looking earnestly heartbroken over the man's loss. “I'll look after him.”

There was no way he could refuse.“Of course,” Hazel said.

Buckthorn carefully reached out and bundled Strawberry's hunched, shivering form in his arms. “There now, I've got you. You're alright, we'll take care of you.”

They continued on their way, all of them hoping in their hearts to never see the blood-stained temple again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was dramatic, wasn't it?
> 
> New update schedule! From now on, as diligently as I possibly can, I will be posting new chapters on Wednesdays and Sundays. Please continue to read and enjoy!


	9. Running blind

_Since leaving the warren of the snares they had become warier, shrewder, a tenacious band who understood each other and worked together._

Despite the horror they had experienced in the temple, as the days passed, Hazel found that he was glad they had stopped there.

They were all better off from a bath and a few days of rest and proper food in their bellies. Blackberry, bless his clever soul, had made a trip down to the kitchens as they were scrambling to leave, and he'd filled a couple bags with food for the journey ahead.

At first, Hazel was nervous about letting Strawberry come with them; he felt sorry for the man, but wasn't eager to trust anyone from that wretched place.

But Strawberry seemed determined to prove his worth. As soon as he'd calmed down a bit- though his hands still shook and his eyes were full of nightmares- he had wanted to walk on his own.

He had no shoes or mask, so Buckthorn helped wrap his feet in strips of cloth, and tied a wide strip around his nose and mouth. It would filter out the worst of the dust and gunk that normally clogged the air, but if they had to go above-ground, he was a dead man.

He was a trooper, they all had to give him credit for that. He walked for hours without complaint until he finally fell to his knees from exhaustion, then protested weakly as Buckthorn picked him up and carried him onwards.

He helped set up camp every night, and could hardly be coaxed into eating a few mouthfuls before he fell asleep sitting up.

And then, like clockwork, he would wake up two or three hours later, screaming.

His hysterics put them all on edge but no one dared mention it, mostly because Buckthorn gave the evil eye to anyone who looked like they were going to complain.

He had devoted himself to being Strawberry's protector and companion, whether out of pity or sympathy or the simple goodness of his heart, Hazel couldn't guess. Strawberry in turn stuck close by Buckthorn as they walked, clinging to him like a lost child.

Bigwig's injury gave Hazel another reason to worry, but he seemed to take it in stride. As soon as he recovered from the drugs, he was as strong and alert as usual (if even more grouchy).

Days passed, and they marched on. They never knew more about where they were going than the general direction provided by Fiver, but after the temple disaster, no one dared to question him.

Some of the company, mostly Hawkbit's gang, had begun to treat him like some kind of messiah, which embarrassed him to no end. Hazel was just glad that his brother was starting to fit in better.

Four days after leaving the temple, they were setting up camp and settling in for the night as usual. Dandelion was telling a story to calm their nerves as they prepared for sleep, and Hazel had just snuggled down into his blankets when the peaceful quiet was shattered.

A deep, rolling  _ boom _ echoed through the earth like distant thunder. They all cowered for a moment, Strawberry clinging to Buckthorn, Hazel wrapping his arms protectively around Pipkin, and Hawkbit's gang bunching up tightly together.

Fiver was the only one who didn't look frightened. He had an air of weary resignation on his face as he knelt on his blanket.

“What happened?” Blackberry asked. “Fiver, what _was_ that?”

“Sandleford's gone,” Fiver replied, his voice hollow.

“What do you mean, gone?!” Hazel demanded. “Was- was that the disaster you predicted? Has- was it... destroyed?”

Fiver laid down and rolled over without another word.

Silence reigned for some time. They were all unsettled by Fiver's grim pronouncement, and none of them seemed to know what to say.

Hawkbit was the one to finally break the silence. “I- the night you told us to leave... I had a fight with- with my mother. That's why I left- I was angry, and I wanted to... to get back at her, I suppose. To teach her a lesson.” He laughed quietly, bitterly. “How pathetic is that?”

“My- my parents-” Buckthorn began hesitantly, “they lived in Endborne. Did... would Endborne have survived? Maybe they're okay, because- because they weren't at...” he trailed off, looking lost.

“Oh, _shut up_ , will you?” Hawkbit snarled at him. “No one cares!”

There was a brief, tense silence as the two stared at each other, Hawkbit's chest heaving with rage, Buckthorn's eyes wide and hurt.

Finally, Hawkbit looked down in shame. “I-I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry, I- I'm an idiot. ” He put his head in his hands. “It's not fair. It's not fucking  _ fair _ .” He started to cry, ugly and noisy in the silence. 

The sound made something in Hazel's chest ache horribly, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to slap Hawkbit, or start crying himself.

Suddenly, Bigwig stiffened and sat up.“Everyone, quiet!” he hissed

“Bigwig!” Hazel cried, shocked at his callous tone. “For Frith's sake-”

“No, seriously, _shh_!” Bigwig stood up, holding their last working lantern over his head. “Look around you.”

Hazel squinted out into the darkness beyond the dim lantern light. For a moment he didn't understand what Bigwig was on about- and then, suddenly, he saw.

Eyes.  _ Thousands _ of small, beady eyes, glowing in the darkness.

“Oh Frith,” he whispered in horror.

“Rats,” Silver hissed.

Rats were the smallest of the elil, but that still meant one was about the size of Bigwig's forearm, with wicked teeth and sharp claws.

One rat by itself was nasty, but a swarm of them could strip an adult human down to their bones in five minutes flat.

“Everyone stay calm,” Bigwig murmured. “They hate the light; as long as we keep the lantern on, they won't attack.”

“We've been running that lantern four days straight,” Blackberry whispered. “It's almost dead.”

“Yes, thank you, Blackberry, I'm sure we all needed to hear that.” Bigwig shot back. “Everyone, stand up and we'll slowly go up the tunnel.”

“Bigwig, our packs!” Hazel said urgently. “If we leave our food and blankets behind we won't survive.”

“I'd personally rather starve than be eaten by rats, thank you very much.” Bigwig's voice was steady, but there was a thinly veiled note of terror in it. “Grab whatever you can reach that won't slow you down. And _don't leave the light_.”

They slowly made their way up the tunnel, bunched around Bigwig and shuffling along. The rats stayed out of the light but did not stop following them.

About three yards later, the light began to flicker.

“Oh _come on_ ,” Hawkbit groaned. “After all this we're gonna be eaten by _rats_?!”

Hazel was struck with sudden inspiration. “Bigwig, if we leave the packs behind, will they stop to eat the food?”

“Some of them will,” Bigwig replied. “It won't take them long to finish it off, though.”

“But it should at least give us a head start.” Hazel took a deep breath. “Alright, everyone, we're going to keep walking until the lantern gives out. When I say so, throw your packs down and _run_.”

They inched their way up the tunnel. The rats followed, keeping a safe distance from the glow of the lantern but never taking their eyes off the company.

Hazel's heart was beating frantically, and he clung to his pack with white knuckles. Fiver had caught hold of his left sleeve and Hazel was reassured by his presence, but he suddenly realized that Pipkin wasn't holding his other hand like usual.

He whipped his head around, terrified that Pipkin might have fallen behind or been lost. But he was right there, in his usual spot next to Hazel- but this time, he wasn't clinging to his sleeve for comfort.

Instead he gave Hazel a tight, fierce grin. “Don't worry, Hazel; we'll come through alright,” he said quietly. “We always have, haven't we?”

Hazel was shocked for a moment, but when he though about it... Pipkin was right. They had crossed a river and survived a tunnel collapse; they'd walked aboveground and escaped from a homicidal cult.

They'd come through too much to let themselves be defeated by a bunch of damn rats!

His heart beginning to pound, Hazel found himself returning the grin. “Of course we will.”

The lantern was flickering sporadically now, sputtering out for a split second every step. Soon it got so bad they had to stop walking just to keep everyone in the dying circle of light. A weird hissing, rattling sound flowed around them as the rats tensed up, eager to pounce and devour.

Flick.

“Stop _doing_ that,” Bigwig muttered under his breath, always frustrated by a problem that he couldn't immediately solve with brute force

Flick.

“Well, it's been nice knowing you guys,” Hawkbit sighed.

“Shut the fuck up Hawkbit,” Silver replied.

Flick.

“Hazel, I think it's dying!” Blackberry's voice was almost drowned out in the hissing and rattling of the rats.

Flick

“Steady, steady”, Hazel murmured, holding his bag up over his head.

Flick

“There's a tunnel, I'm in a long, dark tunnel and you're sailing away from me-”

“Fiver, shush.”

The light died.

“NOW!” Hazel screamed, and threw his bag as hard as he could.

And then he was running, blind in the dark and fueled by pure adrenaline. Fiver hung off his right hand, but he had no idea where Pipkin was in the rush of bodies around him. He regretted not taking hold of him while he had the chance.

The rats seemed to be slowed down by the packs, but it wasn't long until they were back at their heels, rushing after them with a sound like pebbles tumbling across a cement floor.

There was a sudden thud from somewhere behind them, and a scream. “ _ BUCKTHORN _ !”

_ Strawberry _ , some remote, slow-working part of Hazel's brain realized.  _ He's fallen _ .

The darkness was abruptly filled with panicked yelling, and Fiver was pulling on Hazel's arm, saying “Stop! Stop, you have to stop running!” and he  _ couldn't _ , it killed him to think it but if Strawberry was down he was as good as dead, and all they could do was keep running, keep moving forward-

His thoughts were interrupted by suddenly slamming into a steel wall as full speed. Colourful lights burst behind his eyes, and he fell to his knees.

“I tried to warn you,” Fiver said helplessly.

Something large and hot latched onto his arm, and he threw it off with a yelp and scrambled to his feet, his head spinning with pain and confusion. “Fiver, which way?! Where do we go now?!”

“It's a door, Hazel, let me through, I know how to open it-”

“Hurry!”

Fiver pushed past him in the dark, and two rats swarmed up his leg. He screamed and flailed, sending them flying. Someone ran into him, bruising his ribs.

The door whooshed open, and Hazel almost fell through. He got his feet under him, shook his head and shouted as loud as he could; “EVERYONE, OVER HERE!”

There was a mad rush for the door, and Hazel tried to count by touch how many made it through. It was too confusing for him to be sure, but once no one else was coming, he stepped clear of the door and it closed just as abruptly as it had opened.

The next few minutes were bumbling confusion as everyone milled about, running into each other and talking too loud in the sudden quiet, until a light flickered on overhead and silence fell.

They were in a small, square room. Hazel whipped his head back and forth, counting until he was sure that everyone- even Strawberry, by some miracle- was present and accounted for. If any of the rats had followed them inside, they were nowhere to be seem in the light.

Fiver and Blackberry were standing in a small booth to one side of the door, heads ducked over a bewildering array of controls- Hazel assumed that was where the switches for the light and door were located.

He felt a hesitant tap on his shoulder, and turned to see Pipkin standing behind him, breathing hard but still grinning ear to ear. “I told you we'd make it!”

Hazel gave into his emotions and hugged the young man tightly to his chest. “Thought I'd lost you,” he mumbled into Pipkin's soft, curly hair, trembling with repressed fear and bone-aching relief.

“I'm not so easy to get rid of,” Pipkin joked, hugging him back.

When he eventually got the nerve to pull away, he turned back to the rest of the group, needing to reassure himself that they were all ok.

His eyes widened when he caught sight of Buckthorn hunched over on the floor, bleeding from a profusion of wounds all over his body. “What  _ happened _ ?” 

Strawberry, who was standing next to Buckthorn with a queasy look on his face, explained; “I- I tripped over something in the dark, and fell. He... he covered me with his body. He protected me, and then when you told us to come, he carried me to safety.”

Buckthorn gave a weak smile. “I'm fine, really. Someone should have a look at Strawberry's foot, I think he busted it pretty bad.”

“Moron,” Strawberry rebuked him, his voice choked. “Y-you're the one who's b- _bleeding_ -” and he burst into tears, hiding his head in his hands and sinking to the floor. Buckthorn put one large hand on his shoulder, stroking him comfortingly.

Now that Hazel was reassured no one was dead or mortally wounded, he looked around the room, trying to figure out where they were.

Fiver hopped down from the control booth and came over to him. He had pulled his mask off, and his face was calm and clear, like a heavy burden had been lifted from him. “We've made it,” he said, and smiled.

It took him a moment to realize what he was really saying. “Y-you mean, we've arrived? This is- it's where we're supposed to be?”

Fiver nodded.

“We'll about bloody time!” They both jumped as Bigwig strode up behind them, clapping Hazel on the shoulder and ruffling Fiver's hair. “Hey everyone, Fiver says we've made it!”

The room erupted in cheers. Hazel couldn't stop grinning, and Fiver blushed furiously, ducking into his big brother's chest.

“Now, where exactly _are_ we.?” Dandelion asked.

Fiver pulled away from Hazel, his embarrassment forgotten. “Blackberry, now.”

Blackberry nodded, and flipped a couple switches on the control panel.

On the other side of the room, another set of lights flickered on, illuminating a second, much smaller set of doors.

Above the door was a large, rusted sign that read, in faded black letters;

**WATERSHIP INDEPENDANT LABORATORIES- UTILITY ENTRANCE**


	10. Watership

“ _Dandelion, get down!” he said. “Why are you sitting up there?”_

“ _Because I can see,” replied Dandelion, with a kind of excited joy.“Come and look! You can see the whole world!”_

 

The second door had to be opened manually. Bigwig managed to lever it open a crack with a crowbar they found lying around, and then he and Silver struggled to push it wide.

“How did you even manage to get us in here, Fiver?” Hazel asked as they waited for Bigwig and Silver to finish.

“There was a keypad by the door. A few days ago, I saw a set of numbers in my dreams, but I didn't know what it was for until now.”

“You're our good luck charm, kid.” Dandelion said, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, the door's open!” Bigwig called back to them. “Let's get a move on!”

“I don't think Buckthorn should be walking right now,” Strawberry said worriedly.

“I'm fine, really, just a bit- a bit woozy,” Buckthorn murmured.

Silver walked to his side. “You're right, Strawberry. I'll stay here and patch him up, you go ahead with the rest of them.”

Strawberry shook his head stubbornly. “I'm not leaving him.”

Silver shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

The rest of them pressed on. The staircase led up immediately into the dark, and they went up carefully, edging along single file and holding onto each other for support.

By the time they reached the next room, it was pitch black, but by the way sounds echoed around them Hazel could tell it was much larger than the utility entrance.

The air was heavy with the humid scent of plants, and under his feet was a carpet of moss. Hazel felt comforted, being surrounded by green, living things once more, but he was still cautious as they moved farther inside.

“Oof! Oh hey, there's some equipment here!” Blackberry's voice floated out of the darkness. “I wish I could see.”

“What _is_ this place?” Bigwig asked. “Who built it? And why aren't they here anymore?”

“I don't know,” Fiver said. “I can't see any hint of what happened. All I know is that right now, it's safe.”

“The sign said 'Watership Laboratories',” Hazel murmured. “They were scientists, then? But what were they studying?”

“Hazel, there's another stairway up here,” Dandelion said from across the way.

“I think there's more to explore down here too, though,” said Hawkbit.

Hazel thought for a moment.“Let's split up. Dandelion, Fiver, Blackberry, you come with me; the rest of you keep looking around down here.”

“Wait up, I'll come with you too!” Pipkin cried, then yelped as he stumbled over something in the dark.

Hazel couldn't help laughing. “Careful.” He held out a hand, and Pipkin took it gratefully.

~

This new building was full of stairs, and with every set they climbed, it got brighter and easier to explore their surroundings.

On the second level they found more lab equipment, and Blackberry had to be prized away from a large stack of schematics and plans that he found in a cupboard.

The third layer was overrun with plants like the first, although it looked like it had once been a deliberately planted garden. It was filled with fruits and vegetables and it made Hazel's stomach growl just to walk past them.

The fourth and fifth levels were individual rooms and large conference areas. Looking around, it felt like whoever lived here before had just... vanished. There were still clothes folded in the drawers, toiletries on the washroom counters, even food left abandoned that had rotted or crumbled into dust.

“It's sort of spooky,” Dandelion murmured as they peeked into another room.”It reminds me a bit of how empty the Temple was.”

“Me too,” Hazel admitted. “But if Fiver says it's safe, then I trust him.”

The next few levels were more laboratories, and eventually they lost Blackberry to the call of test-tubes and strange equipment. “Just pick me back up on your way down,” he murmured, already thumbing his way through a thick instructions manual.

Finally, they reached a stairway marked by a sign that read “TOP FLOOR” with an arrow pointing up.

As they climbed, it started to get brighter again. The light gradually became so bright they had to squint against it.

At the top of the staircase was an open doorway, and the light shone through so harshly, Hazel couldn't see anything beyond.

Before he could step forward and see what was inside, he hesitated, looking back towards Fiver questioningly.

Fiver nodded at him. “It's safe.”

Hazel took a deep breath, and walked into the light.

...for a moment, the world whited out. When his eyes adjusted and he finally realized what he was seeing, he fell to his knees, overwhelmed with awe.

Frith, in all his glory, shone through a massive set of clear-glass windows. Walking up and up through the tower, they had risen above the ever-present fog that shrouded the earth, and now they could see.

Tears leaked from Hazel's eyes- from pain, fear, elation, relief, it didn't matter- and he hid his face in his hands, unable to bear the light any more.

“Hey, wait up!” Pipkin called from somewhere behind them. Footsteps pounded up the stairs- then stopped. “Oh.”

“Oh _wow_.” H azel heard Dandelion walk past him. “ _Wow_. Guys, you have to look- you can see forever!”

Fiver stayed behind, kneeling and rubbing Hazel's back until he had recovered enough to look up.

His brother  _ glowed _ in the harsh, pure light, his skin burnished red- gold and his eyes shining. “We made it, Hazel. We're home.”

Hazel smiled thinly, trying to hold back tears. Fiver reached down and hugged him fiercely.

~

They stayed in that room for a long time. Dandelion ran down to grab Blackberry, who was grouchy to be pried away from his work but quickly forgot it in his awe at seeing Frith for the first time.

When they finally collected themselves enough to head back down, they were all very quiet. What they had experienced was profound and unspeakable; something they had shared, but had also been entirely unique and personal for each of them.

As they walked down the stairs, Fiver held on to Hazel's right hand, and Pipkin held onto his left.

It felt right.

By the time they reached the level where they had left the others, someone had found a set of lanterns and had placed them around so it wasn't completely dark anymore.

As soon as Hazel's foot touched the mossy floor,  Hawkbit and Acorn ran up to meet them. “You'll  _ never _ guess what we found,” Hawkbit said excitedly.

Hazel had to shake himself out of the reverie he'd been in for the last half-hour or so, and bring himself back down to reality. “You're right, we won't. What did you find?”

“Rabbits!” Acorn exclaimed. “Tons of them!”

There was a collective gasp. “You can't be serious,” Blackberry said.

“No, it's true!” Hawbit interjected. “We found this little room filled with plants, and the lightswitch worked when we tried it, and we realized that the room was full of rabbits! They all ran away when they saw us, though.”

“Well I'll be damned,” Dandelion whispered, almost reverently. “I didn't think rabbits were alive outside the old stories.”

“The kids tell you what they found?” Bigwig said as he came over. “That's a good omen if ever I heard of one. I think this is the right place for us to settle down.”

“I have to agree,” said Hazel.

“Same here,” Blackberry said, looking fondly down at Fiver. “You sure found us a nice place to call home, buddy.”

Fiver smiled.

“Alright!” Bigwig clapped his hands together. “All in favor of staying here?”

A unanimous shout of approval rang through the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit of a short chapter, but hey- the first part of the story is finished! Hooray!
> 
> Coming up soon is Keehar, Efrafra, and all sorts of trouble. Don't miss it!


	11. The Black Rabbit Calls

“ _It comes from men,” said Holly. “All other elil do what they have to do and Frith moves them as he moves us. They live on the earth and they need food. Men will never rest till they've spoiled the earth and destroyed the animals.”_

 

 

Hazel still hadn't quite got the hang of stairs.

Back at Sandleford, apart from a few steps here and there, stairs weren't really a _thing_. When someone needed to go up, either the tunnel gradually ascended, or there were ladders.

The presence of so many stairs had baffled him at the Temple, but at least those were broad, and the wood had a texture that prevented slipping.

At Watership Laboratories, there were lots of stairs, all of them narrow and metal and not friendly toward inexperienced users.

Hazel reflected upon this as he lay at the bottom of a particularly long and narrow flight, rubbing his bruised head and waiting for the world to stop spinning.

“Are- are you alright?” Fiver asked him cautiously.

“Fine, I'm fine.” he mumbled, slowly getting to his feet. “Just embarrassed that this keeps happening.”

“Morning, guys!” They turned to see Blackberry cheerfully barreling down the flight Hazel had just fallen from at a reckless pace, his long legs taking two steps at a time. “Oh dear, did you take a tumble again, Hazel-rah?”

Hazel glared at him. “I hate you and your stupid long legs. And don't call me 'rah'.”

“Sure thing, Hazel-rah.” Blackberry giggled as Hazel's scowl deepened.

He'd taken to calling him that after they arrived, claiming that even though it had been Fiver's visions that had led them here, it was Hazel who had acted as their leader.

“If it wasn't for you, we never would have thought to cross aboveground, or throw down our packs to keep the rats from eating us, or gotten out of the Temple so quickly and without anyone being sacrificed,” he'd said smugly. “and besides, we never would have listened to Fiver in the first place if you hadn't told us to!”

The worst thing was, Fiver agreed with him. And then Dandelion started using the nickname too, and all Hazel could do was try to ignore them and hope that it didn't get back to Bigwig.

“Anyway, good news; I think I might be able to start the main generator today!”

That brought a smile back to Hazel's face. “That's amazing, Blackberry! If we can get lights working in the garden, we'll really be able to start cultivating.”

It was a little over a week since they reached Watership Laboratories (or just “Watership”, as they'd taken to calling it,) and they had already begun to carve a life out for themselves.

Blackberry was, naturally, promoted to the position of chief engineer. His first order of business was to restore power to the building- a process easier said than done.

It turned out that there were several auxillary generators that kept the doors and emergency lights operational. But in order to make the rest of the lights work and get running water, Blackberry had to find the main generator and then figure out how it worked and how to fix it.

Everyone was finding work to do. Hazel, Fiver, Strawberry and Pipkin were in charge of fixing the gardens. Dandelion had taken it upon himself to wrangle Hawkbit's gang into cleaning up the building and making it habitable for human life once more. And Bigwig, Silver and Buckthorn were busy patrolling and exploring the tunnels around the lab, scoping out their new territory for potential threats.

Hazel still wasn't quite used to his new surroundings. Traveling had been one thing, a series of strange events blurring into one another as they walked, but trying to adjust to living somewhere new was disorienting.

It was too quiet here. Sandleford had been perpetually overcrowded, always a little too loud, a little too uncomfortably warm and humid- here, there was space for each of them to have their own separate bedrooms with plenty left over.

They doubled up anyway. Hazel and Fiver shared a room, and it was strange enough with just the two of them; Hazel had never slept alone in his life, and couldn't even imagine it.

The three of them made their way down to the second floor, which they had appropriated into a sort of common room/dining area.

Speedwell and Hawkbit were already up and were sat at a table, attempting to teach Pipkin Bobstones- a game that was popular back in Sandleford. These lessons had been going on for several days running, and their progress was slowed by the fact that Hawkbit insisted on playing by an elaborate system of “house rules” which required twice as many game pieces as usual.

“So, lemme see if I've got this straight,” said Pipkin. “If I move my A-piece three squares, and my Queen to 2-A, and then capture the yellow tile and exile your pawns, then I can tag your B-piece. Right?”

“No, your Queen can't move that many spaces.” Speedwell explained. “And the yellow space only counts every three turns.”

“Uhh... ok, then I'll capture your Bishop!”

“No, he's safe because he's on a green tile.” Hawkbit said.

“But I thought they were only effective every five turns?”

Speedwell rolled his eyes. “They are, but I'm ahead in points so I'm exempt. Aren't you paying attention at all?”

“Ok then, I... I'll tig your Golem!”

Hawkbit slapped his forehead. “How many times do we have to tell you, Pipkin? YOU CAN'T TIG ON A TOG!”

Pipkin groaned in frustration, and Hazel had to bite back his laughter. “Morning, all,” he called to them.“What's for breakfast?”

“Mushrooms,” Hawkbit pronounced gloomily. “When is it ever anything but mushrooms?”

Hazel went up to the counter where breakfast had been prepared by the earliest risers- namely Dandelion and Strawberry. As he got himself a plate of mushrooms, he listened with half an ear to the gamer's banter.

He sat down next to Pipkin, peering over his shoulder to watch him play.

He hadn't even managed three bites before they were interrupted by running footsteps and a door crashing open.

They all jumped and turned to see Buckthorn leaning on the doorway that lead to the utility entrance. “Hazel, come quick!” he gasped out, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. “Bigwig- he's- something's gone wrong, and we can't get him to come home. You have to talk sense into him!”

Hazel stood up, abandoning his breakfast. “Where is he?!”

“Not too far, we were just coming back from a patrol. Hurry!” He motioned for Hazel to follow him.

They rushed out the door, to the fading sound of Hawkbit asking if Hazel would miss the rest of his mushrooms.

Buckthorn led him down to the utility entrance, then out the door into the tunnels. Hazel realized this was the first time he'd left Watership since they arrived; he felt oddly vulnerable.

It didn't take them long to reach the place where Bigwig and Silver were waiting for them, and Hazel could immediately tell that something was wrong.

Bigwig was standing ramrod straight and trembling violently. Silver was holding him by the shoulders and muttering urgently into his ear.

“What's wrong?” Hazel hissed. “Is he-”

Buckthorn held a finger to his lips. “Shh! Listen.”

Hazel held his breath. For a moment, he could catch nothing but the thudding pulse in his own ears from running so fast- and then he heard it.

A low rasping, groaning sound that echoed up the tunnels, sending a thrill of terror into his heart. Was it- it couldn't be a human voice, it was too strange, too... but no, there were words in the noise, a wailing, horrible lament.

“ _Thlayli....Thlaaaaaayliiii....”_

Hazel found himself clinging desperately to Buckthorn's sleeve. “Wh-what _is_ that? What's 'Thlayli?”

“That's Bigwig's proper name,” Buckthorn whispered.

Hazel gasped in horror- then frowned in confusion. “Wait, his real name _isn't_ Bigwig?”

Buckthorn shrugged. “He doesn't like to tell people.”

“You have to go.”

Hazel looked up to see Bigwig staring off into the dark of the tunnel, his eyes wide and glassy.

“When he calls your name, you have to go.” He started to walk forwards, dragging Silver with him as he tried to hold the much bigger man back.

Hazel lunged forward and grabbed Bigwig's sleeve. “Snap out of it! Who's this 'he'?”

“The Black Rabbit of Inle.”

This hushed, grim sentence seemed to chill the air around them. The Rabbit of Inle was a figure from the same stories as El-ahrairah, a strange, ghastly creature that haunted the brilliant trickster's footsteps. He was there in the shadows that hid the crouching elil from your sight; he lurked in the depths of a river too deep to cross; he waited in the dark for your lamp to go out, leaving you lost and vulnerable in the tunnels.

It was told that if you saw him, you were bound to die within a day's time. And if he called your name, you had no choice but to follow.

Hazel trembled as the moaning started up again. Nevertheless, he wasn't about to give up on his friend, no matter _what_ was out there in the dark. “Don't be stupid, Bigwig! We need to get back inside!”

Bigwig hardly seemed to pay any attention to him at all. He kept trying to walk, barely impeded by Hazel's and Silver's combined grip- Buckthorn hung back, white-faced and shaking, too terrified to help.

Finally, Hazel's temper broke and overpowered his fear. “Fine! if you won't come back, I'll go see what's making the noise myself!”

He grabbed Bigwig's discarded lantern off the floor and strode off down the tunnel.

“ _Hazel, no!_ ” Buckthorn squeaked.

“Stay there and keep Bigwig from wandering off, will you?” Hazel called over his shoulder.

The noise got louder and louder as he walked further from his friends, and his courage faltered. By the time they were out of sight behind him, his heart was pounding furiously and he had to make a concentrated effort not to hyperventilate.

“ _Thayli... Thlayli!_ ” The voice rang in Hazel's ears, making his skin crawl. It sounded like a dying animal.

He almost jumped out of his skin when his light shone over a dark, mishappen figure slumped on the floor.

It took him several seconds to recognize what he was looking at- someone lying on the floor, and someone else crouched over them.

The crouching one was completely unfamiliar; a man with dark skin and a messy hairdo that might have, at one point, been carefully gelled and spiked. But the one lying on his side- oh Frith, Hazel _knew_ that face.

He dropped his lantern and rushed forward, kneeling down besides the two. “It's alright,” he assured the unfamiliar man, “I'm here to help.”

He reached down and gently touched the other one's face. “Can you hear me, sir? It's me, Hazel.”

The man's eyes rolled open, and he stared upwards. “...Hazel? Is- is that you?”

“Yes, it's me.”

“You really did survive,” he murmured, then jerked and grabbed Hazel's sleeve.“And Thayli- is he with you? Please Frith tell me he's alright,” he whispered, his tone verging on hysteria.

Hazel nodded. “He's fine. I'll go get him for you.” He got to his feet and shouted down the tunnel, “GUYS, COME QUICK! IT'S CAPTAIN HOLLY!”

~

It caused quite a commotion when they returned, Bigwig and Buckthorn carrying Captain Holly between them. None of them had really expected to see anyone from Sandleford again, so they were happier than they might have been to see the man who had tried to have them arrested.

The man with him was named Bluebell. Hazel could vaguely, _vaguely_ remember seeing him around the bunker before. He wasn't someone he would have associated with Captain Holly; he had been part of the “Jester's guild”, a subset of the storyteller's guild that was less interested in _stories_ per say, and more interested in pulling pranks and pissing off the owsla.

Captain Holly was in bad shape. His eyes were droopy and bloodshot, his clothes were torn, and he seemed to be favoring his left leg. He gratefully accepted a seat in the common room and a cup of warm herb tea from Strawberry.

“I apologize for frightening you,” he said, holding the steel cup in both hands, which were still trembling with chill. “I was... not really in my right mind when you found me.”

“Eh, that's alright,” Bigwig said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I think I may have overreacted a bit.”

Silver let out a hacking cough that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter. He shrugged innocently when Bigwig shot him an evil look.

Captain Holly smiled at the interaction, but quickly sobered. “And I want to apologize for... for not believing your story. Especially you, Thlayli. I was wrong... we were all so, so wrong.” He gazed down at the drink in his hands, looking utterly lost.

Bluebell put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, sir; what gets harder to catch the faster you run?”

Hazel blinked at how out of place the question was.

“What?” Captain Holly mumbled.

“Your breath!”

The hall was completely silent. Everyone stared at Bluebell, shocked and appalled at his flippant attitude at a time like this.

Captain Holly, however, threw back his shoulders and laughed heartily. “Ohhh, Bluebell, my good jester... his jokes and stories were the only this that kept me walking, after we escaped from the bunker.” he explained fondly.

“I used to roll a joke along the ground ahead of us, and then we'd follow it,” Bluebell quipped.

“How did you find us, though?” Hazel asked. “We didn't exactly follow a trail.”

“More importantly,” Bigwig interjected, “What happened back at the bunker? Are you two all that's left, or...?”

Holly heaved a sigh. “... Yes. To my knowledge... we're the only ones who made it out alive.”

A grim silence fell over the company. Hazel found he still couldn't believe him. “But what _happened_? I don't understand. How could... how could an entire bunker just be- be wiped out like that?”

“It... it would be a long story,” Captain Holly said. “And not an easy one, to tell or to listen to.”

“I-I think we deserve to know what happened.” Hazel was surprised to hear Hawkbit speak up, his voice shaken but calm, his shoulders set as though he was bracing himself.

“But maybe we should wait until Captain Holly's recovered?” Blackberry suggested.

Captain Holly shook his head. “No... it should be told now, as I best remember it. And maybe the telling will do me some good. Bluebell?”

“Yes sir?”

“I may need your help in some parts, to help give a... a more complete picture.”

“Sure thing,” Bluebell said, and he sat down cross-legged on the floor next to Captain Holly's chair, leaning against his knee. Hazel got the feeling that it wasn't just Bluebell's voice Holly was asking for- he also needed the moral support.

Captain Holly collected himself for a moment, then after taking a deep breath, he began to speak. “It all started maybe eight days after you left. I was out on wide patrol with Pimpernel and Toadflax- that was the only reason I survived...”

~

_Holly craned his head around the corner, watching to make sure the coast was clear before they ventured out into the main tunnel._

_Once he was sure it was safe, he motioned for his officers to follow him. They ran down the tunnel, hugging the wall._

_Toadflax and Pimpernel followed him closely, guns drawn and pointed to the sides. For a delicate and difficult mission like this, he needed a strong, intelligent team. These two were the closest thing he had at the moment._

_When Thlayli left, he hadn't just had the audacity insult the Threarah to his face, he had also taken two of the smartest and most capable recruits with him. With both Silver and Buckthorn gone, the Owsla's potential was down by about 25%._

_He wanted to hate Thlayli for it._

_Mostly he couldn't understand why he would_ do _such a thing. He_ _had_ _always_ _been_ _a clear-headed and pragmatic officer, why would he up and leave with a group of rumormongering outskirters?_

_But he couldn't think about Thlayli right now. He had to focus on the mission._

_For the past few weeks, there had been reports of a Lendri wandering the tunnels between Sandleford and Endborne. It hadn't made any aggressive moves yet, but Holly held the opinion that where elil were concerned, it was always just a matter of time._

_They had been tracking the creature for the last three days, monitoring its movements around the bunker and looking for an opportunity to kill it. Now, by an incredible stroke of luck, they had sighted it en route to it's burrow, and were trailing it back to it's home for the execution._

_When they reached the end of the tunnel, it branched off two ways- one was a roadway to Endborne, the other was half-collapsed after a major cave-in last year. The perfect burrow for a Lendri._

_Sure enough, creeping up to the mouth of the caved-in tunnel, there was a path carved out of the fallen rubble, and Holly could dimly see a flash of white fur near the end._

_He made a hand-signal, and his officers took position in response, cocking their rifles. If they were lucky, they could take it down before it even noticed they were there; if they_ weren't _, they would have an angry, wounded Lendri on their hands._

_He could hear the slow, heavy breathing of the creature in the quiet. Holding his breath, he cocked his gun and aimed it carefully into the darkness._

_His finger tightened on the trigger._

_He heard it before he felt it- a deep, uncomfortable sound, a rolling, racketing rumble that grew in intensity until the air sang with tension. His ears strained like they were going to pop, and a clammy rush of heat washed over his body._

_H_ _e pulled the trigger,_ _and_ _sound_ exploded _all around them._

 _The tremors came first, shaking them and then rocking them off their feet. And the noise didn't stop, it built and built and_ built _until Holly started screaming just to drown it out. He hit the ground and rolled with the impact, vibrations rattling his teeth and his bones as he crawled back towards his team._

_The Lendri burst out of it's hiding place and scrambled past them, it's sharp claws raking over Holly's back, tearing straight through his protective vest._

“ _What the HELL is going on?” he heard Toadflax roar through the noise._

 _Wind suddenly whipped through the tunnel, tugging at Holly's hair. It was hot- too hot, it seared the exposed skin on his cheeks as he stared up the tunnel, hotter, hotter still, burning,_ burning-

_On instinct, he grabbed hold of the nearest officer and pulled him over to a piles of loose cinderblocks, hoping to find shelter from whatever was approaching._

_He yelled for the other to follow, but his words were stolen away by the fire._

_They crouched down behind the cinderblocks as a wall of fire roared down the tunnel. He felt the heat through his thick, protective clothing, searing into the exposed back of his neck, pressing all around him like a vise. The tunnel shook and debris rained down on them from above as though the very earth was in danger of being ripped open._

_And then, just as suddenly as it had come upon them- it was over. Slowly, Holly uncurled his arms from where they had been protecting his face. “Squad, report,” he said._

“ _Ugh... I think I'm alright,” Pimpernell murmured, sitting up beside him. Suddenly, he jerked and cried out, collapsing back to the floor. “Oh fuck, I was wrong- I think I've broken something.”_

“ _Toadflax, report.” Holly snapped. After a moment of silence, he repeated himself. “Toadtflax, report!”_

_No reply._

_Holly got to his feet, then helped Pimpernel up. He gave the man a cursory examination, feeling over his legs and stomach. “Looks like you've broken some ribs,” he said when Pimpernel winced away from his hands._

“ _Perfect,” Pimpernel sighed, pained. “Just perfect.”_

_Satisfied that one of his officers was alright, he hopped over the concrete barricade to look for Toadflax._

_Toadflax was lying on the floor, covered in debris. Holly rushed to his side, shifting some heavy rocks and blocks of cement off his back._

_When Holly rolled him over, he saw his face was slack, his eyes half-open and a trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth._

_Holly rolled up his sleeve and checked for a pulse._

_Nothing. He dropped Toadflax's wrist.”...he's dead.”_

“ _Damn it,” Pimpernel growled._

“ _We need to go back to the bunker,” Holly said, standing up. “I don't know what happened, but we need to be there to help.”_

_Pimpernel nodded tightly._

_After a brief prayer for Toadflax, they headed back up the tunnel. After that explosion of sound, the silence was eerie, and Holly was half-afraid they would run into the Lendri again._

_As they approached the bunker, it became more and more apparent that something was terribly wrong. They passed more and more cave-ins, and there were standing fires wherever oil had spilled. Pimpernel tripped and hurt himself on an iron grate than had fallen, and he was in bad shape by the time Holly got him walking again, breathing hard and wincing at every step he took._

_Finally, they came to a great wall of fallen rubble where the crossroads had been. They stood at the base of it, staring up it's uneven face in shock and horror._

“ _Holly...” Pimpernel whispered. “What- what do we do?”_

 _Holly stiffened. “I hear voices.” He ran forward and pressed his ear up to the rock. Distant voices reached him- voices shouting, screaming,_ howling _, trapped in the earth. “People are still trapped inside! We need to get in there- we need to find the Threarah!”_

“ _Holly, no, we_ can't _-”_

“ _Go wait at the northmost tunnel leading out, I'll meet you there,” Holly ordered him. A fever had overtaken him, a frantic energy that left him denying what he saw and telling himself_ we must find the Threarah, we have to find the Threarah, we have to find the Threarah and then everything will be alright. _“I'll go in one of the back ways.”_

“ _Holly,” Pimpernel moaned. “Holly, they're_ dead _, you're going to_ die _if you go back in there-”_

“ _GO!” Holly's voice approached a snarl._

_Pimpernel swallowed, his eyes beginning to overflow with tears. But he obeyed; he turned and began limping his way north._

_Holly started running, heading around to one of the hidden entrances the Owsla used._ I need to find the Threarah, _he thought._ I have to find the Threareah, I must, I must, I must find him-

\- dear Frith... Thlayli was right....

_~_

“My memory from there on out is... hazy. The smoke clouded my vision, and made it hard to breathe even through the mask.

“The bunker was collapsing even as I entered. I couldn't find the Threarah- eventually, I gave up and tried to rally the people around me and get them out, but they were too panicked, and the tunnel I had used to enter was caved in. I got turned around, and began to get delusional...

“I can remember the heat, and the press of bodies as everyone rushed desperately to escape. There was screaming and crying as the tunnels became blocked with bodies, those already dead and those fighting to get out alive. I don't know if any of them made it.

I was lost in the fire and the screaming, and eventually I fainted. I could hardly breathe, I was bruised and battered and still trying to crawl, some small, damaged part of my mind screaming for me to find the Threarah and get him out.

“I would have died there. But to my luck- what little luck I had that night- Bluebell found me, and dragged me from the wreckage...”

_~_

“ _Come on, sir, it's alright, I've got you, just keep walking.”_

_Holly was half-limping, half being dragged along the smoky, rocking tunnel. Strong, capable arms supported him and a soothing voice sounded in his ears, encouraging him to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving._

_It seemed like years before he was finally set down, slumping against a rough, stony wall. Once the ringing in his ears cleared, he realized that it was quiet now. No more rumbling, no more screaming._

_He gathered the strength to lift his head and look around. He was in a dim, rocky alcove, and he could see Pimpernel curled up on the floor some five or six feet away._

_The man who had dragged him out of Sandleford was standing above him, looking concerned. “You alright, sir?” he asked._

_Holly couldn't even begin to answer that question, so he asked one of his own instead. “Who are you? His voice was rough, and he choked off into a coughing fit at the end of the sentence._

_The man thumped him on the back. “I'm Bluebell.”_

_The name rung a distant bell. Holly screwed up his face, trying to remember. “... were you the one who replaced a month's worth of ammo with three thousand almonds last year?”_

_Bluebell' grinned. “Yep, that was me. Well, and a few friends.”_

_A hoarse, faintly hysterical laugh bubbled up from Holly's throat at the memory.”I wanted to fucking strangle you lunatics.”_

_A deep rumbling boom interrupted their conversation. Holly covered his ears with a pathetic cry, and Bluebell gripped his shoulder firmly. “Sounds like the attack isn't over yet; we need to get out while we still can.”_

_Holly wasn't listening to him. He was staring into the middle distance, heart throbbing and eyes glazed. “... Thlayli was right,” he murmured._

“ _What?”_

“ _Thlayli told us he was leaving.” Holly began to shiver uncontrollably. “He said there was some great disaster on it's way... I-I tried to arrest him- Frith, I was_ stupid _-”_

“ _There's no way anyone could have predicted this,” Bluebell said. He started tugging gently but insistently at Holly's sleeve. “We need to leave, sir, right now.”_

_Holly shook his head fiercely.“The chief,” he croaked. “We have to go back, find the Threarah-”_

“ _He's dead, Holly,” said Bluebell. “I'm sorry. We have to leave him.”_

_A broken sob tore its way out of Holly's throat. He slumped down, trembling in grief and rage and exhaustion._

“ _Sir, I'm sorry, I need you to keep walking.” Bluebell's voice was urgent, but somehow gentle, a strange counterpoint to the violence that they had so narrowly escaped. “I know, I know you want to grieve, but you gotta get up, you gotta keep moving.”_

_He was right... and Holly wasn't a captain for nothing._

_It took every ounce of strength and courage he could muster, but finally he steeled himself, took a deep breath, and staggered to his feet._

_He and Bluebell got on either side of Pimpernel, supporting his weight between them. The man stirred and woke. “... Captain? That you?”_

“ _Yes, I'm here,” Holly said. “You're alright now, Pimpernell, we'll take care of you.”_

_Pimpernel sighed. “Thank god you made it out...”_

_They walked until their legs could carry them no further, and then huddled behind a chunk of fallen concrete for a pittance of shelter as they rested._

“ _Where do we go now?” Pimpernel asked, his voice small and broken in the silence. “We haven't got a home anymore.”_

_Holly looked to Bluebell. The man gave him a tired smile, but it was clear that he had no more idea than Pimpernel._

_It fell to Holly, then. A leader he had been... and a leader he must be again, for the sake of his fellow survivors._

“ _We find Hazel and Thlayli,” Holly said determinedly. “And if they're still alive, we beg for their forgiveness.”_

~

Captain Holly took a deep, shaking breath, and put his head in his hands. Bluebell tugged him into a lopsided embrace. “It's ok, man. You're ok.”

The room fell silent, except for quiet weeping from some of the company.

Hazel felt... numb. He could hardly believe Captain Holly's story, and yet he knew it had to be true.

Sandleford was gone. Just like that, all those people, every nook and cranny of the little bunker, every leaf and root of their garden, everything they had left behind... all gone.

All dead.

He forced himself to look around. He saw Fiver comforting a sobbing Pipkin; He saw Buckthorn bury his face in Strawberry's curly hair as he cried. He saw the tight lines around Bigwig's mouth, the deep pain so obvious in his eyes.

And over it all was a weird, sick satisfaction, a feeling of _Thank god it was them and not us_. Hazel sort of hated himself for feeling that way, but he couldn't deny it.

Bluebell took the story back up, gently rubbing Captain Holly's shoulders. “After that, we just kept walking, and the road led us north. Pimpernel... he only lasted a couple of days. We buried him under some rubble along the way.”

Buckthorn, Silver and Bigwig all saluted the loss of their comrade, muttering a prayer for him, their voices rough and out of sync.

“We didn't know which way you'd gone, but Holly- begging your pardon, sir- started going a little coo-coo by the end there. He kept saying that he could hear your voice, Bigwig. He'd go running off, and all I could do was follow him- it wasn't like _I_ knew where the fuck we were supposed to go.”

“And then Hazel found you,” Dandelion said. “It's a bit of luck that you ended up here, huh?”

“Luck? Hmm, I wonder.” Captain Holly put his drink down. “I- I would like to say this again... I am so sorry for not believing you, for not listening, for not... for trying to stop you. Can you... can you find it in your hearts to forgive me?”

For Hazel, that was an easy decision; of _course_ he forgave the man. But Captain Holly wasn't looking at him- he was looking at Bigwig.

Bigwig stared back for a moment, then strode across the room to Captain Holly's side. He knelt down, so that they were looking eye-to-eye “I forgive you, ok? You're absolutely welcome here, Captain. No one will say otherwise.” And they all knew that no one would- not unless they wanted to answer to Bigwig.

Captain Holly's eyes filled with tears. He shook his head slightly. “Not 'captain' anymore, Thayli. After all that, don't you think I deserve a retirement?”

Bigwig smiled sadly. “Alright then; just Holly.”

Holly smiled, and gently wrapped his arms around Bigwig's shoulders. Bigwig bowed his head into the embrace.

~

The next day, a subdued atmosphere hung heavy over the tower. Holly and Bluebell had been assigned a strict period of bedrest, which they were all too grateful to accept.

Everyone else was deep in their thoughts as they went through the motions of ordinary life, stuck in limbo between shock and grief.

Hazel was so wrapped up in his own mind that he tripped walking down a hallway and almost fell. When he recovered, he turned to see that he'd stumbled over Hawkbit, who was sitting all hunched into himself against the wall.

He didn't look up, or acknowledge Hazel at all. He was staring off into space, his eyes rimmed with red, and tear-tracks dried on his cheeks.

It was disturbing to see Hawkbit alone. No matter how brash and arrogant the young man was, it was obvious that he was in his element when surrounded by his friends. For him to be off grieving on his own... he must have felt absolutely destroyed.

Hazel looked at him for a moment, trying to think of what to do or say. Should he just leave Hawkbit be? He got the feeling that platitudes or philosophizing would only make him feel worse.

But in the end, he couldn't stand to just leave him there. Slowly, he sat down, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Hawkbit still didn't acknowledge his presence, but Hazel figured that if he wanted to talk, he would speak first.

He was right.

“Am I... a terrible person?” Hawkbit asked quietly.

Hazel thought for a moment. “No. You're young; that means you're going to make a lot of mistakes. It's how you grow up.”

He expected for Hawkbit to roll his eyes or snap at him, but he just stayed quiet. After a while, he said, “I should have tried to make my family come with me. Instead, I- I yelled at my mom. That was the last time I ever saw her; I called her an idiot and slammed the door in her face.”

Hazel reached over and cautiously ran his fingers through Hawkbit's unruly hair. Again, the violent reaction he anticipated didn't happen, so he got a little more confident. “We all should have tried harder to convince people to leave. Maybe once we were all together, the Threarah would have listened to us.”

Hawkbit nodded against his knees. “... How do you... how do you get over feeling like you're responsible for someone else's death?”

Hazel bit his lip and tried to think back to his own childhood, when he was only ten years old and standing over his mother's grave, a tiny, squalling infant in his arms. “... you just try not to think of it, I suppose. You try to go on living, and try to do more good in the world than harm. When you're older, you'll look back, and if it's not your fault- and I really don't think it is- you'll realize that, and you can move on.

“What if it _is_ your fault, though?” Hawkbit's voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Well...” Hazel shrugged. “You just have to realize that you can't know how your decisions are going to turn out. And you.. just keep trying to do good.”

Hawkbit was crying in earnest now. He wrapped his arms around his chest, sobbing. “M-my stomach- it f-f-feels like it's going to split open.” He glanced up at Hazel, looking more vulnerable than he ever had before. “Am I- am I going to die?”

Hawkbit was tall and obnoxious and he tried so hard to look cool that sometimes Hazel forgot that he really was still a child. Right now, it was impossible not to see that.

He wrapped an arm around the boy and let him cry into his shoulder. “No. Not until you're old and grey and the rest of us are plagued by your grandchildren.”

This coaxed a tiny, watery laugh from Hawkbit. “Are-are you trying to be a j-jester too?”

Hazel opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a sudden minor miracle.

The lights flickered on.

They stared at each other. “You don't think-” Hazel whispered.

“Blackberry!” Hawkbit exclaimed, then pulled back and started furiously wiping his eyes. “Come on, I bet he's headed to the dining room!”

They ran back into the dining hall where everyone was gathering, just in time for Blackberry to come flying down the stairs and plow right into Hazel's chest. “IT'S WORKING! IT'S WORKING! FRITH ABOVE, _THE GENERATOR IS WORKING!_ ”

Hazel barely had time to congratulate him before Dandelion grabbed the man out of his arms. Blackberry was passed around the room, receiving hugs and back-thumps and noogies, still screaming at the top of his lungs, “IT FRIGGIN WORKS!”

Watching his friends jump and shout in glee, the impromptu gathering beginning to turn into a full-on celebration, Hazel felt something settle inside himself.

He would always miss Sandleford, just like how he would always miss his parents. But this life they'd built for themselves here... it wasn't that bad.

Not too bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm proud of this chapter for various reasons. (And would especially appreciate feedback on it. )
> 
> I'd like to thank my brother for Bluebell's joke at the beginning of the chapter, when I couldn't think up anything suitably corny, and my dad, for letting me ask all sorts of disturbing questions about explosions underground and the chance of survival someone in poor holly's situation might have.
> 
> Inle- The moon; also refers to the land of death.


	12. Keehar

“ _They had a great bird that turned into a shaft of lightning.”_

 

 

Now that they were more or less settled into Watership, with working lights and a decent garden and more rabbits than rats roaming the halls, Bigwig had decided that it was time for them to form a functioning owsla.

This made Hazel a little nervous. He had wondered, as they journeyed, at what point Bigwig was going to get fed up with taking orders from someone else and make his bid to be chief. Bigwig was a good man, but Hazel never fancied having to be his underling. Now he wondered if banding an owsla together might just be Bigwig's first step towards chiefhood.

But he hadn't brought the matter up. When Hazel cautiously asked if he was planning to make himself Captain of the Owlsa, he simply replied “Well, who else is going to teach this sorry lot to fight?” Hazel had no protests there, so he let the matter rest.

Not that Hazel thought _himself_ any more worthy of  being  Chief. He still frantically hushed anyone who tried to call him “Hazel-rah”, and stoically denied that he had  any leadership role in Watership.

He just...  _ happened _ to end up telling people what to do, and they  _ happened _ to (most of the time) do those things on his word. A relatively level head and respect from your equals didn't necessarily equal a chief, right?

In any case, Bigwig set out to recruit owsla members, and it was an immediate, resounding success.

Silver and Buckthorn joined, of course; Hawkbit signed up, looking worryingly enthusiastic about the prospect of getting to handle a gun. Speedwell joined him, but Acorn surprisingly did not, deciding to continue his work in the gardens and kitchens instead. (Hazel could only be happy that the lad was cultivating some independence from his peers.)

Holly did not join; he still insisted that it was time for him to retire. Bluebell, despite his decent size and strength, also declined.

Hazel could tell that Bigwig was relieved by this; he didn't get along very well with Bluebell. It seemed he still had too many memories of pranks pulled on him and his officers by the Jester's Guild. (When Hazel asked him about it, he just walked away, muttering crossly about “The pants incident”, the full story of which which Hazel was definitely going to coax out of Bluebell later.)

The most surprising recruit was also the last to join; Pipkin.

In private, he told Hazel that he intended to keep his promise and pull his own weight, and he wanted to protect the new home they had found.

Hazel was proud of him, but also a little sad; now that he was off on training and patrols for most of the day, Hazel hardly ever got to see him anymore.

He'd really come to like Pipkin along their journey, relying on his comforting presence and steady optimism. He missed the easy, close relationship that had slowly grown between them.

He sometimes caught himself selfishly wishing that Pipkin had chosen a job that would keep him inside the tower more often.

But moping about it wouldn't do any good.. There was still plenty of work to be done, and Hazel only hoped that Bigwig's new training program was going well.

~

_ Well this is  _ _ fucking horrendous _ , Bigwig thought, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Did I, or did I  _ not _ tell you bozos to be quiet?”

“Sorry!” Pipkin hissed.”These new boots are too big, I tripped.”

“Well I'm sorry that the previous residents of this splendid pile didn't stock shoes for mice,” Bigwig snapped. “Learn not to trip! And Hawkbit, point your fucking gun down and take your _fucking_ hand off the trigger before you shoot somebody!”

“I don't see why we gotta be so careful,” Hawkbit griped, although he did adjust his hold on the weapon. “It's not gonna go off all on it's own.”

Bigwig had to work  _ very _ hard to keep his voice under control.  “You're careful because I said so, got it?” 

H e cast a  _ back me up here won't you?  _ look over at Silver, who shrugged.  Bigwig ground his teeth.

They were a fair way out from Watership, on their first long patrol as a group. It wasn't going so hot.

For some reason, Bigwig had thought that becoming captain of Owsla in a brand-new outpost would free him from handling dumbass new recruits.

He had never been so wrong.

It would have been easier if he could delegate to his senior officers more, but they were both pretty fresh themselves; besides, neither of them really had the temperament for leadership. Buckthorn was too shy and Silver was just too...  _ apathetic _ . 

So as it was, he had three kids to wrangle all at once. Hawkbit was the main troublemaker, of course- he'd settled down a bit since they came here, but was still obnoxious. Speedwell was better behaved, but neither of them knew their way around a gun any more than Bigwig knew how to fly.

And Pipkin. Poor Pipkin. Bless his well intentioned little heart he  _ tried _ , but it was going to take a lot of shaping to turn that cute, chubby muffin of a kid into any kind of warrior.

Bigwig heaved a sigh (Not for the first time that day. Actually, it was the twenty-eighth. It had been a  _ long _ day.) “Look, all of you; if we're to make an actual, functioning owsla, you have to shape up and start actually  _ listening _ to me. As of now we're the only defense this place has, and trust me, that's a pretty depressing prospect. You volunteered yourself for this, so now it's your job to-”  
His little monologue was brought to a halt by a resounding  _ crash _ that echoed down from the surface.

They all stared at the tunnel roof, frozen in shock and apprehension. Eventually, Bigwig broke the silence. “Well, here we go, boys; the whole reason we have long patrols is to investigate weird shit like that.”

“So it's our job to run _towards_ the things that want to kill us?” Hawkbit snarked.

“If you want to resign, be my guest. Now come on, the lot of you.”

Bigwig had spent the last week mapping out the tunnels around Watership, and so it was relatively easy to chart a path from where they were standing to the nearest surface entrance- a heavy duty square hatch that led up into the crumbling wreckage of a brick shelter.

Once they found it, Bigwig crawled up first, hunching behind the low, tumbledown walls of the shelter and peering out to see if he could locate the source of the noise.

It wasn't hard. Out across the way, under the shadow of Watership tower, was...  _ some _ kind of machine lying in pieces on the ground. Smoke curled up from the gently smoldering carcass, half embedded in a sizeable crater, debris strewn abound it for yards

He motioned for Silver and Buckthorn to stay behind him as he cautiously approached the wreck, his gun half-cocked and ready to unload a respectable amount of ammo into any potential threats.

By the time he got close enough he could reach out and touch one of the long, broad pieces that stuck out from the side, he'd determined that the thing probably wasn't about to explode or collapse. He cautiously poked at it with his toe.

An angry voice immediately started yelling at him from the wreckage, causing him to jump back in alarm. “YOU! YOU NO TOUCH MAH PLANE!”

A man hauled himself up out of the shattered cockpit of what Bigwig now realized  must be some sort of vehicle. He was covered in soot and shards of glass and was bleeding profusely, but none of this detracted from the fact that he was tall and broad and purely  _ radiating _ malice _. _ “You tink I fineesh? No fineesh! Plenty good fight still!”

“Who the hell are you?” Bigwig drew a loose bead on the man. He may have been wounded, but he was also _bigger than Bigwig_ which was _ridiculous_ and also _terrifying_ because Bigwig had never actually had to look _up_ at someone while he was standing for  at least ten years.

“Piss off!”

Well, negotiations were going splendidly. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his officers weren't following him- he didn't want this guy to think they were ganging up on him and panic- and he lowered his weapon and tried to speak simply. “Not gonna hurt you, ok? Friend. All friends here. No fight.”

“No fineesh,” the man repeated firmly, staggering. “No fineesh for Keehar yet. Still plenty... plenty fight...” and he toppled over onto the ground with a grunt.

Bigwig went to his side and carefully inspected him. Not dead, just stone cold unconscious, and with how much he'd already bled out, Bigwig was impressed he'd stayed on his feet for as long as he had.

“Buckthorn, help me carry him back to base,” he called over his shoulder. “Silver, you go ahead with the newbies and tell everyone that we're bringing a crazy, half-dead tinker with us.”

~

“What is this, Hazel's home for the partially dismembered?” Bluebell quipped, looking over their new patient.

Bigwig glared at him. “Don't you need to be taking care of Holly right now?”

“Nope! He's good. Dandelion's reading to him.” Bluebell rocked back on his heels and flashed Bigwig a grin.

Hazel sighed. “He means we need some quiet in here, Bluebell. Could you please go find something useful to do?”

To his surprise, Bluebell obeyed immediately, waltzing out of the room and off down the hall, whistling to himself.

“How come he listens to you?” Bigwig asked. “Do you just have some sort of mysterious power over stupid people?

“It's because I don't give him a reaction, Bigwig,” Hazel explained. “He teases you because you fuss and scream and he thinks it's funny. It's like he's pulling on your pigtails.”

“I don't wear any fucking pigtails!”

Their conversation was interrupted by a low groan from the man on the bed between them. He stirred, and both of them took a step back, wary of how he might react to waking up injured in a strange room.

He jerked up, startling both of them. He looked around and, getting a bearing on his surroundings, glared up at them with narrowed eyes and folded arms. Apart from his labored breathing, the wounds up along his chest and down his side hardly seemed to affect him at all. “Vat is dis?” he growled.

Hazel came forward. “It's alright,” he said, trying to make his voice soothing and speak simply so the man could understand. “You hurt.  W e took you in, treated your wounds. We are  _ friends _ .” He gestured awkwardly between Bigwig and himself.

With a low growl, the man surged up from the bed, and Bigwig half-tackled him to keep him down. “You moron, you'll rip you're god damn stitches out!”

“Pah! Need no damn stitching, plenty good, you let GO!”

Hazel waved his arms frantically. “Please stop! Bigwig, you'll only hurt him worse!”

The two stopped fighting for a moment, glaring at each other in a vicious stand-off. Despite his bravado, Keehar's chest was visibly heaving and his arms shook where he tried to hold himself up.

Hazel gently pressed a hand to his chest. “I  _ promise _ we won't hurt you. We just want you to heal. Now, are you hungry at all? I can get you food if you want.”

He found himself suddenly fixed by the man's fierce eyes, and a shudder went through him at the intense scrutiny of his gaze.

Either he found something in Hazel's eyes that he trusted or, more likely, he got tired of sitting up, and he collapsed back on the bed with a loud huff. “Fine. Food... food sound good.”

Hazel patted him cautiously on the arm. “Good man. You rest, ok? Bigwig, let's give him some air.”

Bigwig reluctantly followed him out of the room, and Hazel studiously kept his eyes down as he closed the door behind them- he wasn't keen on having his soul stared into again any time soon.

~

Once they got him eating, his mood quickly improved and he started chattering amiably on, his heavy accent combined with the rate at which he shoveled food into his mouth making it difficult to understand what he was saying. “Name is Keehar. After- mm!- after waves on pig vater. Ya? Vater come in, psha! Go out soft, keehar, keehar...”

Hazel frowned. “P-pig v- big water? Is that what you're saying? What is...”

Keehar swallowed on enormous mouthfull of mushrooms and blinked up at him. “Ya, ya, pig vater! Waves dat go miles, lot of feesh. You fly for long, you find heem.”

“Fly?” Bigwig asked. “Humans can't fly.”

His eyes lit up and he started gesticulating wildly.“Fly een plane! She  _ magniiificent _ , soar and swoop and dive!” then he dropped his hands and sighed. “But now she busted. Need new parts.  L otta time,  lotta work, she fly again.”

Hazel and Bigwig looked at each other.  _ What on earth is a plane? _ Hazel thought.  _ Is that the wreck that Bigwig found him in? But... how could a hunk of metal  _ fly _? It doesn't make sense. _

Keehar returned his attention to his food, but he had lost his previous energy. He seemed sad and tired, disheartened by remembering his broken vehicle.

_ He's like us _ , Hazel suddenly thought.  _ He lost the thing that's most important to him, just like we lost our home... he must feel so helpless. _

“We'll help you repair your plane,” Hazel blurted out. “And-and until it's fixed, you can stay here and rest and have all the food and supplies you need. Understand?”

The man's face brightened once again. “Very good! Sound like plan.” Keehar downed the last of his food in one enormous gulp. “You good peeple, yah? Maybe I do you favor sometime in return.”

His abrupt change of heart was a little hard to swallow, but his voice was so jovial and earnest that it was hard not to believe him. And Hazel wasn't going to say no to any offer of a favor.

Now that he was fed and assured of his safety (and the safety of his flying machine), Keehar immediately fell asleep. Hazel and Bigwig crept out of the room, leaving him to rest.

“Are you sure about this?” Bigwig asked. “We have no idea if what kind of man he is... and I don't even know that we can spare materials to help him with.”

Hazel shrugged. “It might have been a mistake, but we've been so fortunate lately, I feel like we can't keep all of it to ourselves. If we're in a position to help others, we should.”

“Hmm.” Bigwig sounded skeptical, but didn't argue with him.

They parted ways at the stairwell, and as Hazel turned towards his own room, he saw Blackberry hurrying up the hallway with a worried expression.

“Oh, there you are, I was looking for you,” he said as he approached. “Can I ask you something?” he asked quietly.

“Sure, what?”

“Call everyone to a meeting.” Blackberry bit his lip. “Well, not everyone; Dandelion and Bigwig, maybe Fiver, too. All our.. 'senior officers', so to speak.”

Hazel frowned. “What's wrong?”

Blackberry shuffled his feet anxiously. “I'd rather not have to explain it more than once.”

“I'll round them up,” Hazel promised. “We'll meet in one of the upstairs offices, alright?

“Thank you.” And he hurried off down the hall.

Hazel stared after him, a knot of worry beginning to tighten in his stomach.  _ Whatever it is he has to say, it doesn't sound like it's good news... _


	13. Politics

_Human beings say, “It never rains but it pours.” This is not very apt, for it frequently does rain without pouring. The Rabbit's proverb is better expressed. They say “One cloud feels lonely”: and indeed it is true that the appearance of a single cloud often means that the sky will soon be overcast._

 

Hazel gathered everyone Blackberry asked for, along with Holly- even though the man admitted he was still worn out and would probably do little more than sit on the sidelines and listen.

They convened in a large office upstairs, sitting around an oblong table. Blackberry stood at one end, fidgeting nervously as all eyes turned to him.

Hesitantly, he began to speak. “I recently found a log that the previous residents kept before we came here, and from what I've read... it might be in our best interests to do some exploring.”

Hazel cocked his head to one side. “What did it say?”

“I have a hard time deciphering it- they use some kind of shorthand half the time, and there are a lot of terms I'm not familiar with- but as far as I can tell, they were a group of scientists working to restore the world to it's former state, and make the surface habitable again.”

A shocked murmur went around the room. “Is that even possible?” Bigwig asked.

Blackberry shrugged. “What I can understand of their theories  _ sounds _ plausible; whether it would work on any kind of large scale, well... but anyway, the log stops abruptly on a date about 3 years ago. It says that something threatened their work, and they had to scatter, in hopes of preserving some knowledge of their efforts  if the tower was destroyed.”

“Does it say what the threat _was_?” asked Hazel, a chill running down the back of his neck. 

“There was just a set of coordinates- I didn't recognize the system- and one word printed below them; 'Efrafra'.”

There a was a brief moment of silence. Finally, Bigwig broke it by sighing heavily and putting his head in his hands. “Oh yeah, because that's not ominous at  _ all _ .”

Blackberry held up his hands. “I'm just saying, it might be worth our while to investigate threats before they become immediate.”

“Or we might be better off not poking a sleeping fox,” Dandelion muttered.

Hazel thought for a moment.“If there was some way to scout around the area without having to send a team underground and put them at risk...” he said, tapping his fingers on the table. “Keehar said he owes us a favor, didn't he? If we repair his plane, maybe he'll be willing to do some scouting for us.”

“Are we sure we can trust him?” Dandelion asked. “He might just fly off into the sunset and never be heard from again. Or maybe this 'plane' is actually a weapon of some kind.”

“What do you think, Fiver?” Bigwig turned to him. “Is he trustworthy?”

Fiver's face screwed up in concentration. “I don't sense any bad intentions from him. He has strange this air about him, like even when he's right in front of you, his heart is somewhere else. But it's not a malicious feeling.”

Hazel shrugged. “If we can convince him do it, then it's as good a plan as any.”

“Well, that's that settled.” Bigwig proclaimed, folding his arms and looking around as though daring the rest of them to disagree.

~~~

Work on repairing the plane began immediately. Almost everyone pitched it, excited to work on something new, and all other projects were put on temporary hiatus.

This included Bigwig's Owsla training. Hazel assumed he would be upset, but on the contrary, he was the most eager out of any of them to see the machine complete, and threw himself wholeheartedly into the repairs.

Despite his earlier mistrust, he was the first person to really make friends with Keehar When he wasn't out foraging for parts or hauling them around, he was in Keehar's room, and the two talked and laughed for hours at a time. Hazel has never seen Bigwig be so happy and animated before.

When Hazel asked him about this, he smiled sheepishly and said, “Guess I've always sorta dreamed of flying. When I was a kid, someone back at Sandleford used to tell stories about a human who flew around the world on the back of a giant bird... I suppose it stuck with me.”

That made sense to Hazel. Bluebell, on the other hand, was of the opinion that Bigwig just had a massive raving crush on Keehar. When he said as much over dinner in front of the entire group one night, Bigwig got so mad Hazel thought he was going to  _ actually _ murder the jester. 

Holly intervened before anything could happen, and Bluebell seemed to find the entire situation hilarious. Hazel was just glad they weren't cleaning bloodstains off the kitchen floor.

As Keehar recovered and the plane started to look more plane-shaped and less scrap-heap-shaped, Hazel thought about the best way to introduce their plan to him.

In the end, he needn't have worried. As soon as he brought up the idea of scouting, Keehar (who was just well enough to hobble about and help with repairs,) grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him an amiable shaking. “Good ideas! Yah, I scout, I find out dis Efrafra, I come back before you know eet! You help me, I help you, no debt, all fair.”

“S-sounds good,” Hazel said as he wobbled out of Keehar's grip, his brain spinning. “You'll have to talk to Blackberry about maps and such-”

“Very good, I find heem. Good man,” Keehar said, ruffling his hair as he strode off.

Hazel blinked at his retreating back, then scowled and smoothed his hair back down.  _ Talking to Keehar is like having a conversation with a friendly hurricane. _

Finally, after weeks of hard work, the plane was finished. There was much rejoicing.

Keehar took it out for a brief test-flight around the tower, and everyone gathered around, watching him with a mixture of awe and concern.

It rose up and coasted on the air, hard to see in the thick fog, wavering and dipping and making Hazel wince whenever it got too close to clipping a wing on the tower.

When it landed, Keehar emerged triumphant, flashing a grin and two thumbs-up as everyone crowded around to congratulate him.

He agreed to take some of them up for a few quick rides; Hawkbit and Acorn and an incredibly nauseous Speedwell; Blackberry, Fiver and Dandelion; and a ridiculously enthusiastic Bigwig dragging a terrified Buckthorn and an anxious Strawberry with him.

Hazel kept his feet firmly on the ground. He didn't care how much fun it was or how much his friends pleaded for him to try it- he didn't trust that thing one bit.

Finally, Keehar had to take off on his scouting mission before the sun went down. He waggled his wings as he flew off into the distance, and was swallowed up in the fog.

“I wonder if he'll actually be able to find anything?” Hazel said to Blackberry.

Blackberry grimaced. “You know, I think I'd be happy if he  _ didn't _ . We've had enough trouble for a lifetime already.”

Hazel shivered and tried to fight off the idea that Blackberry's words had just jinxed them.

~

Keehar returned three days later. No one even heard him land, so it was a complete shock when he came barging into the dining room and slammed a map down on the table.

He stabbed his finger onto a small black mark on the paper, and Blackberry came close to see. “I see dem, got plenty good look. Dey pretty clever bunch, they hide out good- but I see doors in ground, I see patrols comin' back to base.“

Hazel wasn't sure whether he should feel triumphant or horrified by this realization. He settled for crossing his arms and letting out a thoughtful “hmmm” sound, hoping it made him sound more in control than he was.

“So Efrafra _does_ exist!” Blackberry exclaimed. “... now, what do we _do_ about it?”

“We should meet them head on- take out the threat before it takes out us!” Hawkbit crowed.

“But how can we even be sure they _are_ a threat?” Pipkin asked. “We can't just _assume_ they're bad people- we don't even know if the same people live there as before.”

“It would be best to send out a scouting party, just a small one to scope out the scene,” Dandelion said.

Hazel frowned. Dandelion was probably right, but he was still concerned about the risk of sending a patrol out that far, to an unknown and possibly hostile bunker. “I don't know... they wouldn't have any support to fall back on if things went wrong.”

“I could help,” Keehar suddenly spoke up. He had drifted off to one side of the conversation, badgering Acorn into helping him 'refuel' after his long flight, but now he strode back into the circle, bearing a massive armful of food. “I fly out wit you, we rendezvous every day. You fella's get in a pinch I help you out.”

“That's perfect!” Bigwig said.

Hazel agreed, but couldn't help feeling a little guilty. “Are you sure you can do that, Keehar? You've already more than paid your debt to us...”

“Sure, leetle guy.” Keehar gave him a fierce grin. “Got nuttin' better to do. 'sides, you plenty good fellas- you _amuuse_ me.”

Hazel was suddenly really,  _ really _ glad they'd managed to endear Keehar to their side. He didn't fancy the idea of that many teeth being bared at him under less friendly circumstances. “I suppose we're in  _ your _ debt now.”

Keehar waved his hand. “No debt, no matter. We even, 'kay?”

Hazel nodded. “Thank you, then.”

~

Now they were faced with another problem; who to send on the scouting party to Efrafra.

Hazel was going, of course, but he wasn't sure who else to send. Dandelion, maybe, but not Blackberry; he was still needed at the bunker. Someone from the Owsla, of course, they needed the protection, but- and he loathed to even think about how to drop this particular bombshell- not Bigwig.

Bigwig would be a great military asset, of course, but he was neither an ambassador or a spy. And Hazel was certain that both cunning and diplomacy would be needed in spades for this particular mission.

In his head it sounded like logical reasoning, but he had no idea how he could tactfully explain it to Bigwig.

He thought about it for several days and nights, trying to find the perfect way to phrase it that wouldn't sound like an insult.

One day, while he was puttering around his room, talking himself through various scenarios, Holly showed up unexpectedly.

“I hope I'm not disturbing you,” he said quietly, leaning on the door frame.

Hazel blushed furiously and cleared his throat. “Oh, not at all.” He offered Holly a chair, and they sat across from each other.

Holly didn't beat around the bush; he simply folded his hands on his lap and said,“I'm volunteering to lead the scouting party.”

Hazel blinked. “With all due respect, Holly, I was planning on being the one to lead it.”

“You need to stay here, and keep everything running while we're gone. You are the chief, after all,” Holly said.

Hazel's stomach dropped. “I'm no chief,” he said automatically.

Holly shrugged. “No one can force you to be, of course. But try to look at this pragmatically. If you aren't chief, then who is?”

Hazel blinked at him. “Well, we haven't officially  _ got _ a leader at the moment, but... Bigwig would be the best choice, I suppose.”

Holly nodded. “Alright. So if, say, tomorrow we were to go up to Bigwig and tell him he was the new chief, and he accepted the offer, what then? Would you really be alright with that?”

“Bigwig would make a fine chief!”

“I don't doubt it. But what about _you_ , Hazel? I know you're invested in the welfare of this place; if you stepped down from your position of power- and please don't deny the power you have- you would have much less say over what happens here.”

Hazel opened his mouth to protest- then closed it. If he was really being honest with himself... he  _ did _ have some kind of power over what happened here in their new home, and he appreciated it.  He appreciated that his ideas were listened to, that his plans were put into action, that when there was a problem, he could  _ fix _ it.

_ Would _ he be able to stand by and have so little say in Watership's future? 

But on the other hand, the idea of officially calling himself leader... it chafed at him, like clothes that didn't fit.

“And besides,” Holly continued, “Bigwig is busy as captain of Owsla. Who would fill that position?”

Hazel shrugged. “You could. Frith, you could be  _ chief  _ if you wanted.”

“Yes, I could.” Holly said. “But for how long? I'm an old man, Hazel; older since the disaster at Sandleford. My time is growing short.”

“Don't say that,” Hazel protested.

Holly gave him a sad smile. “Hazel, you need to understand- a chief like you is a rare thing. You are smart, forward-thinking and conscientious, but also kind and thoughtful. You know what it's like to grow up poor and downtrodden; you think of those with less power then yourself as equals, and you actively look for ways to uplift them.

“Bigwig is a good man; a noble man. But it is all too easy for noble men to become corrupted. The best quality for a leader is to be _humble_ , before anything else.”

“I can't imagine a man like Bigwig ever becoming corrupt,” Hazel said.

“I can,” Holly said. “Because I worked under one for almost thirty years.”

It took Hazel a long, slow moment to realize what he meant. “Th- the Threarah?” He blinked, confused. “Holly- you've never spoken of him with anything but utmost respect.”

“The Threarah was a good man,” Holly said. “But as the years went by, he became too focused on his own goals and ideals. He didn't pay attention to those he saw as beneath him. And in the end... it lead to his downfall.”

Hazel stared down at his lap. He hadn't thought of it that way before; he didn't know how to respond. “I... I just don't know, Holly. I still don't think _I'm_ cut out to be chief.”

“No one is born a leader,” Holly said. “But like it or not, you have the potential.” He patted Hazel on the shoulder. “Just think about it.”

And then he walked away, and Hazel watched him go, not sure how he felt about their conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is a good time to point out that whatever opinions my characters may have about each other, that doesn't necessarily reflect how I as an author feel about THEM.
> 
> So Hazel and Holly's respective opinions of Bigwig shouldn't be taken as gospel.


	14. Nuthanger

_A spirit of happy mischief entered into Hazel. (…) He was confident and ready for adventure. But what adventure? Something worth telling to holly and Silver on their return. Something to- well, not to diminish what they were going to do. No, of course not- but just to show them that their Chief Rabbit was up to anything that they were up to._

 

 

In the end, Holly was the one who lead the party to investigate Efrafa. Buckthorn, Strawberry, and Silver went with him.

Hazel bit his tongue and resigned himself to sitting the trip out. He still wasn't sold on the idea of being chief, but Holly had so much more experience than him, and probably knew best. He figured it would be worthwhile to at least think about the older man's advice.

Bigwig was disgruntled about being left behind, but in the end he was a surprisingly good sport. “I'll be in charge of taking Keehar's reports,” he said at one point, looking cheerful at the prospect.

“You know, at this point I'm starting to agree with Bluebell about your crush on him,” Dandelion said, earning himself a clip around the ear.

The party set out early the following morning, with little fanfare. Keehar flew out after them. They would rendezvous with him at the end of each day, and once or twice a week he would report back to Watership.

After all the excitement of Keehar's arrival and departure, it was hard for everyone to settle back into the daily routine of life. Even Hazel felt oddly restless. He told himself over and over that he had made the right decision in staying home instead of leading the scouting party, but he still felt a nagging sense of resentment.

If Holly was so intent on him being Chief, shouldn't he let  _ Hazel _ be the one to forge off into dangerous situations, and guide his people safe back home? Not staying back and delegating to officers like a coward.

Although come to think of it, that was exactly what he'd done by making Bigwig head of Owsla... but that was understandable, right? He wasn't a fighter. Not that he was really a strategist, either. Or an engineer like Blackberry, or an entertainer like Bluebell or Dandelion, or a seer like Fiver...

In fact, what  _ was _ his role here? He still wasn't convinced he made a good leader. Other than that he was just a vaguely capable worker, no one who couldn't be replaced by anyone else.

Well, if that was what he was good for, then that was just what he had to do for now. He threw himself into his chores to distract himself from the thoughts that wanted to tangle in his head.

Even so, he couldn't distract himself forever. After hours of tending the gardens, cleaning, sorting out disagreements among the youngsters, and other various odd jobs, he found himself wandering aimlessly about the halls, still restless.

Eventually his feet carried him up to the laboratories, where Blackberry was working alone.  _ He needs an assistant or two _ , Hazel thought idly.  _ If not for the help, then at least for the company. _

It took a while for Blackberry to notice him. “Oh! Hi, Hazel. Did you need something?”

Hazel shook his head. “No, I'm just sort of...” Lost? Bored? Experiencing self-doubt and existential angst?

“Well, if you're not busy, would you mind giving me your opinion on something?”

“Sure. What are you working on?”

Blackberry reached under a counter and pulled out a large, boxy contraption with an impressive set of antennae. “I repaired this radio a few days back, and ever since then I've been able to pick up some faint signals,” he said, slowly turning the dial.

Hazel listened closely. At first there was just heavy static and a high-pitched, whirring whine, but as the dial turned, he could make out the sound of music, and then a series of faint beeps. “What  _ is _ that?”

“It's Morse code,” Blackberry replied. “Every hour or so, they repeat a brief message and then a set of coordinates. It's from some place called 'Club Nuthanger'.”

Hazel cocked his head to one side, trying to hear past the static. “Funny name. I wonder if it's a bunker? Do you know where they are?”

“If I've got the coordinates right, they aren't that far away. Down a straight tunnel it would take less than an hour to get there.”

Hazel felt excitement start bubbling up inside of him. “Maybe we can round up a team and make a visit to this 'Club',” he said. “ Holly and his lot shouldn't get all the fun; we can have a story of our own to tell when they get back. Besides, it would be prudent for us to explore around here some more, get an idea of who our neighbors are.”

“That's a great idea! Who'll you take with you?”

“Not a large party; we don't want to attract too much attention. And It's no use telling everyone and getting their hopes up, in case it turns out to be abandoned.” Hazel hummed, rubbing his chin. “Do you want to come along?”

Blackberry shook his head. “I should stay, in case Keehar comes back while you're gone. He might need my help with the maps and coordinates.”

“Right.” Hazel patted him on the shoulder. “I'll tell you how it goes.”

He left the lab, thinking hard about who was best for the expedition.

The more Hazel thought about it, the more he thought that a team of two was the best option. They would be stealthy and less noticeable, but still have two pairs of eyes to watch each others backs.

But who to bring...?

~

“What? Me?” Pipkin looked up at him with wide eyes.

Hazel nodded cheerfully. “Only if you want to.”

“Are- are you sure I'm the best choice for something like this?” Pipkin asked.

“Absolutely. Besides, you've been so busy with your owsla duties lately, I thought it might be nice to give you a break,” Hazel said confidently.

Dandelion or Bigwig would have been good choices, but for different reason, both of them were likely to question his judgment or insist on making their own decisions- something that could be disastrous in a tight situation.

Pipkin would listen to him. Pipkin would trust him. And more importantly, he trusted Pipkin; if he ran, he knew Pipkin would be right behind him.

Besides, he enjoyed Pipkin's company. He missed talking to the young man regularly like they bused to. It would be fun to take a long walk with him, have a few adventures, get to share the story when they got back.

“Well, I suppose... if you say it's alright...” Pipkin said, hesitant but obviously excited. “Sure!”

“If that's settled, then I'll meet you down in the utility entrance after lights-out,” Hazel said.

Pipkin beamed at him. “Then it's a date!”

~

The tunnels that wound their way from Watership were confusing, but as long as they kept consulting the map and compass Blackberry had lent them, it wasn't difficult to keep going in the right direction.

As Hazel had thought, it was a nice walk. They chatted casually, keeping their voices down so they didn't attract any unwanted attention.

After a while, their conversation turned to their old lives. “What sort of job did you have back at Sandleford?” Hazel asked.

Pipkin shrugged. “Well... not much of one, actually? I wasn't strong, or smart, or very talented, so I just sort of did odd jobs around the place.” Suddenly he grinned sheepishly. “When I was little, I sort of wanted to join the owsla, but of course I wasn't ever strong enough. So I'd just hang around the barracks and beg for food.”

Hazel laughed a little, but he was disturbed by the implications of his story. “You said before that you're an orphan. Who was taking care of you, then? Did you have a foster family?”

“No... I've always been a bit- a bit flighty.” He started wringing his hands- a subtle, nervous motion. “No one really wanted to take me in. But I was cute, so they would feed me and give me little things. I-I got by, it was fine. I never really felt at home there, though... I didn't really had friends back then- not like I do now.”

Hazel was astonished. Growing up  without parents had been difficult for him, even more so with Fiver to take care of, but he'd never been  _ alone _ . His mother had made friends before she died, and they'd helped Hazel find his place in the bunker early on.

Pipkin noticed Hazel looking at him, and hurriedly waved his hands. “I-I'm not looking for pity or anything!”

“No, no, I understand.” Hazel smiled at him, even though it hurt his heart to listen to his friend talk about how he'd essentially had to raise himself. What could you say to that? “I'm just glad you feel at home here,” he finished lamely.

“I really do,” Pipkin said earnestly. “More than anything, it's amazing to have my own job and really feel like I'm contributing something. I can't believe that all these years later, I finally made it into the owsla!”

“I'm proud of you,” Hazel told him earnestly, and Pipkin blushed bright red, looking down at his shoes.

They kept talking, losing track of time until they eventually realized the tunnel was widening and a large, blocky shape was becoming visible ahead.

“That must be it,” Pipkin whispered.

“Well, let's go and see.” Hazel stuffed the map and compass into his pocket, then held his hand out. Pipkin took it, and they walked forward together.

Where most bunkers made at least a cursory attempt at staying hidden, this place was obviously designed to stand out. A flickering neon sign hanging from the roof read CLUB NUTHANGER in blocky red letters, and all along the walls wall, graffiti had been scrawled in bright, clashing colours. A big steel door was propped open, smoke and music and raucous laughter spilling out into the murky cavern.

A woman with a gun propped on her shoulder was on guard by the door, and some ten feet away a massive, dark shape was half-hidden in the shadows- after staring at it for a moment, Hazel's heart leapt into his throat as he realized it was a dog.

Pipkin clung to his arm as he cautiously approached the door, thinking with every step,  _ this was a bad idea, this was a bad idea, this was a  _ very _ bad idea _ .

The guard raised her eyebrows as she noticed them. Her mouth stretched into a toothy grin. “Fresh meat!”

Hazel  _ really _ hoped she didn't mean that literally. “Um- hi! W-we're from a-a bunker nearby, and-”

“Yes, yes, very nice,” she said disinterestedly. “Anything to declare?”

They stared up at her.

She huffed in annoyance. “Weapons.”

“Er... we both have knives....” Hazel said. He had to keep his eyes from drifting worriedly over to the massive, crouched shape of the dog. “Can we- do we leave them with you, or-?”

She waved her hand. “Take 'em in. You'll probably need them in there.”

Hazel was not reassured. Keeping Pipkin's hand firmly in his, he edged his way past the guard. “Thanks...” he murmured.

Inside was all heavy smoke and  noise.  Along one wall was a low bar where a man was selling drinks to customers.  Men and women sat around tables, armed to the teeth and drinking heavily. In the corner, someone was playing an instrument made out of pipes and steel barrels very badly.

Hazel was disoriented by the noise and bustle. Most bunkers had some kind of gatekeeping system in place, and he hadn't honestly expected to be able to just  _ walk right in _ . For a while, the two of them just stood there, staring around them.

“What do we do now?” Pipkin hissed in his ear.

“I-I'm not sure. Maybe we should look for an office, or-”

Someone shoved past Hazel, pushing him back into a table. He knocked over someone's drink, spilling it all over the floor. “Oh, shit- Sorry!”

The group sitting around the table didn't look impressed at his apology. One man- a big man, not _Bigwig_ big but muscular enough to look like a typical owsla officer \- got up, and shoved Hazel hard in the chest.

He stumbled backwards, almost knocking Pipkin over. “I-I really am sorry, about your drink, maybe we can g-get you a new one?”

“Look at these fucking rats,” The man said, his lips turning up into an entirely unpleasant smile. “Thinking they can buy their way into our affections. The hell do you think you are?”

“We're not here to cause any trouble,” Hazel said, putting his hands up. The room had gone uiet, and people were turning to stare at them. His stomach sank; he _really_ hadn't wanted to cause a scene.

“I don't think you understand,” the man said, standing up and approaching them. His friends started chuckling dangerously. “I don't fucking care what you're here for. This is _our_ territory, and we'll do what we like with trespassers.”

Hazel gritted his teeth. He hadn't felt this intimidated since he was staring up into the jaws of a wolf all the way back at the Endborne crossing.

Suddenly, Pipkin pushed his way in front of him, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, putting himself right in the line of fire.

_ Oh no, Pip, don't! _ Hazel thought, panicked.

Nevertheless, Pipkin stepped forwards. “I'm not afraid of you,” he said, quiet but firm.

The man grabbed Pipkin by the collar and hauled him off the floor. “What a pipsqueak! He's almost _cute_!”

The room roared with laughter. Hazel jumped forwards and grabbed the man by his arm. “Put him down!” he snarled, fear suddenly replaced by rage.

“You assholes walked into the wrong bar,” the man growled, pushing Hazel away and giving Pipkin a firm shake.

“That's ENOUGH!”

Hazel whipped his head around to see a  petite  young woman come stomping up to the man, who hardly spared her a glance. Nevertheless, she got right up into his face- or as close as she could get without standing on a table- and put her hands on her hips. “Put him  _ down _ , Gary.”

The mans sneered, but relaxed his grip on Pipkin just enough for him to gasp in a breath.

“Do I need to call the manager?” she asked. “ _Again_? You know you're on thin ice after the grenade incident.” 

The man sneered. “You can't do shit to me.”

“Hey, you still owe me from last month when I bailed your sorry ass out.” She changed tactics, her voice turning sweet and wheedling. “C'mon, big guy, I'll get you and your table a free round of drinks.”

The man glared at her for a solid thirty seconds, considering- then he tossed Pipkin to the side. Hazel grabbed him around the waist before he could hit the ground.

“You hear that, lads?” The man shouted. “Free booze!”

Hazel sighed in relief as the group roared in approval and went back to ignoring them. He clutched at Pipkin, breathing hard.

“You guys owe me.” He looked up to see the woman standing in front of him. Her eyebrows were turned down, but she didn't seem as annoyed at them as she could have been.

Before he could come up with an answer, Pipkin tugged at his sleeve. His eyes were wide and his hands were trembling. “Going to have a panic attack,” he whispered.

Hazel giggled nervously. “I think you deserve one at this point.”

“Here, come with me,” the young woman said. “You can go cool down in the back for a while.”

After a brief but heated discussion with the man tending the bar, (about the free drinks she'd promised, from what Hazel could make out) the young woman led them back through the bustling kitchens, into a storage room full of boxes.

In the corner a boy was crouched down next to a dim lamp, reading a tattered book. When he saw them enter, he scrambled to his feet and hid the book behind his back, looking frightened.

“It's ok, Laurel,” she waved at him, and he sat back down, staring nervously up at Hazel and Pipkin.

Hazel gave him an awkward little wave and tried to smile reassuringly. The boy shrank back, averting his eyes.

Feeling stung, Hazel helped settle Pipkin down on a convenient crate and rubbed his shoulders gently. “You doing better?”

Pipkin nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I just got panicky. All that smoke wasn't helping, either.”

“I really am sorry about all that. The bar gets a bit rowdy at night, and the lads are hard on newcomers,” the young woman said. “My name's Clover, by the way. This is my brother, Laurel.”

They introduced themselves. “Er, this place does seem a little... rough,” Hazel said awkwardly.

Clover rolled her eyes. “It's a meeting-place for all the gangs, smugglers and drug-dealers in a twenty-mile radius.”

“Why do you work here?” Hazel asked. “It sounds absolutely miserable.”

She grimaced. “We don't have much choice. My father went into debt to Mr. Nuthanger- the manager- some years back, and we came here to work it off. Father kicked the bucket last winter, but we're under contract until the debt is paid. And Mr. Nuthanger adds interest, and charges us for food and board, and it's all added to our debt.”

“That's horrible,” Pipkin said. “Why don't you just run away?”

She shook her head. “The work is hard, but we're safe here. I need to think of my brother's wellbeing too.”

Hazel looked over at the boy, who had gone back to his reading, but kept stealing glances up at the adults as they talked. “I can understand that.”

“Where are you boys from, then?” She sounded like she was deliberately changing the subject, and Hazel decided to follow her example.

“We come from a place called Watership,” he said. “It's east of here, a nice building with lots of plants and room for many people. A group of us left our old bunker and traveled to where we could be safe and free.”

“That sounds nice.” Clover sounded wistful.

The strange, fae mood that had brought Hazel this far compelled him to take a risk. “Why don't you two come back with us?”

Clover and Laurel both stared at him. After a moment of shocked silence, Clover shook her head. “It's not like we can just walk out of here; if the guards caught me I'd probably get shot. Mr. Nuthanger doesn't like people trying to skip out on their debt.”

“We could help you escape,” he said. “Our owsla officers are some of the best, and we have a lot of practice in stealth.”

She frowned. “And I'm supposed to take your word for it, am I?”

“It's your choice,” Hazel said. “I just wanted to let you know that you're welcome, if you want to come.”

Clover pursed her lips, giving him a calculating look. From the corner, Laurel was staring at her with some mixture of fear and hope.

Eventually, she crossed her arms. “I'll consider your proposal,” she said. “If you can come here early tomorrow morning, there won't be as many guards, and I can s ee to it that they're occupied elsewhere on the property . Come around the back, there's a service entrance you can use.  _ If _ I decide to trust you, me and my brother will be there waiting for you.”

“Sounds fair,” Hazel said.

“Alrighty then. You lads shove off; it's time for me to get back to my shift.” She got up and shooed them out of the room.

“Laurel, be good,” she told her brother, before shutting the door behind him.

Clover guided them back through the crowded bar. “Tomorrow morning, alright?” she muttered in Hazel's ear.

“We'll be there,” he promised, before he and Pipkin slipped out the door.


	15. You Never Listen

“ _I've no feelings about the farm one way or the other,” said Fiver. “But that doesn't necessarily mean it's alright. (…) But there's something that frightens me about you yourself, Hazel: just you, not any of the others. You're all alone, sharp and clear, like a dead branch against the sky.”_

 

It was late by the time they returned to Watership. It wasn't long until they ran into Bigwig and Dandelion, waiting at the top of a stairway with identical scowls.

“Where have you two been?” Dandelion demanded. “Pipkin, I was going to rope you into a bobstones match with Hawkbit. You know I'm rubbish at strategy on my own, I lost five games in a row.”

“And Fiver's been worried sick about you, Hazel,” Bigwig added.

Hazel and Pipkin shared a conspiratorial glance. “We were out on a scouting mission,” Pipkin said with barely suppressed glee.

They quickly summarized their trip, and what they had promised to Clover and Laurel. The other two listened with interest.

“Hmm, on the one hand, that sounds like it could bring a good bit of trouble down on us if something goes wrong,” Bigwig said when the story was finished. “On the other hand, it sounds like fun. Let's do it!”

“Can I come?” Dandelion asked eagerly.

Hazel bit his lip in thought. “Well... It probably shouldn't be more than three of us... Bigwig, you're the obvious choice for a bodyguard, and we'll probably need Blackberry to get us through any locks or traps.”

“Oh, well that's alright then,” Dandelion said. “I've taught him how to correctly dictate a story to me, so he'll make a suitable replacement.”

“Does- does that mean I can't come?”

Hazel's heart twisted as he caught sight of the look of hurt and disappointment on Pipkin's face as he asked. “I- well... I'm sorry, but if we send more than a group of three down, we'll really be pushing our luck as far as stealth is concerned.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Pipkin looked downcast for a moment, then brightened. “I'll wait for you to get back, then. Good luck!”

Hazel still felt a twinge of guilt, and somehow, Pipkin's deliberate cheerfulness made it worse.  _ I feel like I'm  _ _ being cold towards him _ _... but it's the most logical decision! …Is it? _

Bigwig interrupted his thoughts by clapping him on the shoulder. “We should let everyone know what we're planning. Come on!”

~

When they told their story over dinner, everyone seemed enthused. Apparently Hazel hadn't been the only one feeling restless and frustrated after Holly and company left, and they were all looking forward to a good adventure.

After some discussion, they decided that Hazel would take Blackberry and Bigwig, just as he'd planned. Hawbit lobbied hard to be included on the team, but Bigwig gave him a stern order to stay put and watch over Watership while they were gone. ( Then, as soon as the boy was out of earshot, told Pipkin to watch over  _ Hawkbit _ .)

In the end, there was only one person who thought that the raid was a bad idea.

Early the next morning, as he dressed to go back out into the tunnels, Fiver hung around to keep him company. He kept darting little nervous glances up at Hazel- obviously bursting to say something.

Finally, Hazel sat down on the bed, buttoning up his overcoat, and gestured for Fiver to take the chair across from him. “Come on, kiddo; tell me what's bothering you.”

“I just... I have a bad feeling about this trip of yours.” Fiver said as he sat down.

Hazel frowned. “You think it will be dangerous?”

Fiver was quiet for a long moment. “... Not for the rest of the party. Just- just for  _ you _ .”

“Can you see why?”

“It's... it's making a bad decision. It's like you're running further and further ahead of me, and I can't see you through the mist...”

_ Oh, so now  _ he's _ questioning my competency _ , Hazel thought bitterly. “Fiver, I'm not making any bad decisions. Clover and her brother need our help; we can't just leave them there after we promised to help them!”

“No, but- but _you_ don't need to be the one to help them!”

“I'm the only one who's been there before, they won't know how to find the service entrance-”

“Then send Pipkin instead!” Fiver was getting visibly upset now. “Why aren't you listening to me?!”

“ _You're_ not listening!” Hazel half-shouted. When Fiver winced away from him, he immediately felt bad. “Fiver, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get angry.”

Fiver bit his lip and didn't answer.

Hazel tried to soften his tone. “How about this; I won't go with them all the way. I'll wait up near the tunnel entrance, and send Bigwig and Blackberry in to get them. Does that sound better?”

Fiver looked down, fidgeting with his hands. “... I-I suppose...”

“There we go, then.” Hazel smiled. “A compromise.

Fiver nodded, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

Hazel sighed. “Look, Fiver, if I'm going to... _take charge_ here, then that means I can't always be hanging back and letting others get into trouble for me. I don't know much about leading, and I have to learn on the job.” He patted Fiver on the head. “Don't worry about me. I won't actually go into the club, and I promise I'll take every precaution to come home safe. Alright?”

Fiver nodded, but he still looked miserable. So Hazel had no choice but to give him a quick hug and leave him there.

As he met the others down in the utility entrance and they got ready to leave, he tried to comfort himself with the thought that he'd taken every reasonable precaution that didn't actively involve him abandoning the raid that was  _ his  _ idea in the first place. What more could his brother ask?

Still, he had a nagging sense of foreboding as they set off. He tried his best to fight it off and focus on the task ahead of him.

~

Now that they knew where it was, it was just a quick jaunt down to Club Nuthanger, Hazel leading the others through the winding, cris-crossing tunnels.

He stopped as soon as he could see Nuthanger at the end of the tunnel before them. “I'll wait here for you. Go around the side of the building like I told you, and watch your backs.”

“Got it,” Bigwig said. Then he and Blackberry vanished into the darkness.

Hazel crouched down, wrapping his arms around his knees to keep warm. He didn't like waiting back here while they ventured into the heart of danger, but he'd promised Fiver he would stay safe.

So he waited. Five minutes... ten minutes... fifteen minutes... he lost track of time and grew more and more anxious the longer Bigwig and Blackberry were gone.

When he saw motion out of the corner of his eye, his head snapped up, thinking it was his friends returning. But his heart sank when he saw sharp beams of light cut through the darkness, and heard unfamiliar voices talking in low tones.

_ The guards. What are they doing out here? _

Everything abruptly got worse as he saw four shadowy figures break away from the building and come dashing up towards him- and right towards the line of lights.

What should he do? If he shouted to get their attention, he'd give himself away.

On of the guards gave a sharp cry, breaking the tense silence, and Hazel heard the cocking of a gun.

He panicked and took off running towards the fast-moving shapes of his friends. No sooner had he caught up to them then a blaze of light surrounded the whole group. Gunshots rattled out as the guards fired at them.

They scattered. Hazel grabbed Laurel's arm and hauled him out of the way. Following Blackberry, they hid behind a broken pillar, breathing hard.

Laurel pulled his arm out of Hazel's grasp. “My sister! Where's Clover?!”

“Bigwig's got her,” Blackberry assured him, “They ran down the tunnel.”

The guards were regrouping a dozen feet away, arguing quietly among themselves about which way they should go to catch the miscreants.

Hazel thought fast. If the guards followed Bigwig, they might find their way to Watership, which was bad. But if they caught his group in their hiding spot, they would kill him and Blackberry and take Laurel back- also bad.

There had to be some kind of third option.  _ This is my fault; I got them into this mess, so I  _ _ have to _ _ be the one to get them out, _ he thought desperately. _ Think, think- what would Elahrairah do? _   


It came to him all at once. He took a deep breath. “I'm going to run across first, to distract them. Then you can make a break for the tunnel.”

“Hazel, no!” Blackberry hissed. “If they corner you-”

“There are vents and pipes all over the place in here,” he whispered back. “I'll be able to slip away. It's your best chance for survival.”

“Then let me be the distraction,” Blackberry insisted.

Hazel shook his head fiercely. No one was going to sacrifice themselves for him, not tonight. “Just go! Get Laurel back to Watership, and tell the others I'm coming.”

And before Blackberry could make any other objections, he bolted.

The guards began to shout and a glare of light fell over him as he ran. It shined into his eyes and he stumbled, disoriented.

Gunshots echoed through the tunnel, and pain suddenly exploded through his right leg. He collapsed to the ground, a ragged scream escaping his lips and he twisted, trying to grab onto his leg, make the pain stop, make it STOP-

Through the fog of agony, he could hear footsteps approaching, and he panicked. Looking around, he saw a large metal pipe sticking out of the wall some five feet away. He crawled desperately towards it, clenching his teeth against any more noises as he dragged his dead leg along behind him.

He crawled into the pipe until it bent upwards and he could no longer follow it. The footsteps grew louder and louder outside, and he held his breath, shaking, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

~

“The gunshots have stopped,” Clover said. “Let me go back, I need to make sure Laurel's alright!”

“We can't be sure they've gone,” Bigwig hissed back at her. “If they've caught your brother, then you'll just be falling back into their hands.”

“If they've caught Laurel, then I need to be there to protect him. And they're not going to chase us far anyway, we aren't worth that much.” She glared up at him. “Let me go, I'm fast and quiet, they won't even notice me.”

Despite the tense situation, Bigwig found himself liking Clover. She seemed bright and had a pragmatic attitude that he would value in an owlsa officer.  _ If we get through this alive _ , he thought,  _ I'll offer her a job. _

Before he had to decide whether to let her go or not, they heard fast approaching footsteps. They shrunk back against the wall, listening hard.

It was Blackberry, pulling an exhausted Laurel along by the arm. “Bigwig, Clover, you alright?”

“We're fine,” Bigwig said as Clover embraced Laurel and started checking him over for wounds. “Where's Hazel?”

“He was shot,” said Blackberry shortly.

The words were like a physical blow. “What?!”

Blackberry continued like he hadn't even heard him. “Come on, we need to get out of here, get these guys back to Watership before-”

“Blackberry, what the hell?” Bigwig grabbed Blackberry's face in both his hands and forced him to look up.

Tears tracked down his face, his eyes wide and filled with fear- or sadness- or rage?

“Fuck,” Bigwig whispered. “Damn it, I'll go back and look for him.”

“Bigwig _no_. We have to get these two to safety.”

“We can't just _leave_ him there!”

“Bigwig, Hazel's DEAD.” Blackberry snarled at him.

There was along, horrible silence as the two stared at each other. It felt like a contest- who was going to break down first?

Instead, a small hand was laid on Bigwig's arm. “I'm sorry for your loss, but I need to get my brother somewhere safe.” Clover said, her voice calm now that Laurel was with her. “And if you can't take us to your home, then we'll just have to go back to the club.”

Bigwig swallowed hard, and shoved all his own grief and anger into the back of his mind to deal with later. “We'll get you back to Watership. Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheh... sorry for the cliffhanger?
> 
> Welp, hope you can all wait until Wednesday! 8D


	16. Bright Eyes

“ _On'y I ain't got 'im, see?” went on the man. “That's why I can't get done. I can't 'ang 'im up, 'cos 'e've gone down th' bloody 'ole, that's where e've gone. E've gone down th' bloody 'ole, just when I'd got 'n lined an' all, and I can't get 'n out.”_

 

When Fiver awoke, it was dark inside the tower. Frith had gone down, and all the electric lights had been switched off.

He padded quietly out of his room and down the staircase. He was the only waking soul in all of Watership, and the floor was so cold it burned the bare soles of his feet.

He stood in the middle of the common room, wearing only his briefs and a white shirt Buckthorn had given him to sleep in, which was so long the hem brushed against his knees.

Ever since Bigwig and Blackberry had returned with the two escapees from Nuthanger, bearing the news that Hazel had been shot, Fiver had been in a strange mood. He felt distant from the rest of the world, the voices and touches of comforting friends muffled like he was experiencing them through a thick blanket.

It was almost nice to be numb, after he'd been so miserable all day after his brother left. Hazel's voice had echoed in his ears, sharp and angry, reverberating through his skull until he just wanted to curl up into a ball and  _ scream _ .

It was just like the Temple all over again. Hazel had said he would listen to Fiver from now on, but of course he hadn't; as soon as Fiver said something he didn't want to hear, he reasoned his way out of it, dismissed his concerns like he was a petulant child.

It hurt. Fiver didn't  _ want _ to make Hazel angry, he just wanted to protect him. Fiver was small and weak, and telling others of his visions was the only thin g he could do to help them. 

So yes, it was good to be numb right now. All day he had waited, dreading to hear that the worst would happen- but when it did, he felt strangely calm. He almost felt like he was...  _ waiting _ for something.

And eventually, something came.

He felt a vast, inscrutable presence, like an eye had opened somewhere and fixed its gaze on him. A presence that called to him and warned him at the same time.

He shivered, from cold and from distant, dull fear, but did not hesitate as he walked down into the utility entrance and out into the tunnels.

It was deathly quiet as he walked, his footsteps and the steady pulsing of his heart the only sounds that reached his ears. He was unafraid of elil or poison gas or collapsing roofs; he felt only a vague sense of apprehension as he ventured on into the dark.

Presently, he came to a crossroad. Wind blew through the tunnels, whistling and groaning and tugging at the hem of his shirt, urging him onwards. But which way was he supposed to go?

That was when he saw  _ it _ .

A dark shape that looked at him, over him,  _ through _ him and into him, with eyes that had seen all the world and all of time and all the deep, dark vastness of the universe. 

It was the Black Rabbit of Inle. Or- was it a human? A tall figure in a black cloak.

Fiver blinked and shook his head, trying to make the image before his eyes- in his mind?- coalesce into something that made sense. But before he could, it moved away, off down the eastern stretch of tunnel.

“Wait!” He called out, and it stopped, turning to gaze through him once more. “Do you... am I supposed to follow you?”

It gave no answer, and Fiver knew that it wouldn't wait for him. So he hurried after it, his feet splashing through puddles turned silver with  moonlight . 

On and on the figure led him, down winding, twisting tunnels that rose and fell below him. He ran after it as fast as he could, his breath coming short but his limbs never tiring.

Finally, they came to an open chamber, and Fiver cringed as he caught the scent of blood. He turned to look at his guide.

He could see its shape clearly now; it was tall and thin, draped with heavy robes as black as night, with stars twinkling in the depths of the fabric. It's face was the skull of a rabbit, stark white bone, impassive and unreadable.

It was strangely beautiful. Gazing up at it, Fiver was simultaneously filled with a terrible, deep-seated dread, and an odd sense of peace. There was no malice, no cruelty in this thing- this god.

Only the inevitable.

He took a deep breath. “Please, master... where is my brother? He's lost, and I- I need to find him.”

The specter regarded him for a moment, then stretched out one long, skeletal hand, and pointed to a large round pipe set into one wall.

Fiver looked over at it. Blood dripped steadily from the end like water from a faucet, a rhythmic note of chaos and colour in this stark world. The sight didn't frighten Fiver; it gave him hope. Blood meant life, although for how much longer, he couldn't say.

He swallowed. “Master, I beg of you- please don't take my brother. Not yet. We still need him- _ I  _ still need him.”

The thing gave no indication that it had heard, but it made no move towards the pipe or toward Fiver. So he crept a little closer to the steady stream of red.

Another heartbeat reached his ears; this one slower and heavier than his own. With every step he took towards the pipe it grew louder, thumping in his ears, thrumming under his feet, beating in his chest, pounding in his head. It was almost unbearable, but still he came closer. He reached a hand out, his fingers inches from the stream of blood-

~

Bigwig was tugged out of sleep by small, sharp hands prodding at his chest. He groaned and tried to wave them away.

“Bigwig. Bigwig! Get up, get _up_!” The little hands shoved him with a surprising amount of force, and he finally jolted awake.

“Huh? What's- oh, Fiver.” Bigwig yawned dramatically, rubbing a hand over his face. “Wha's wrong, kid?”

“It's Hazel,” Fiver hissed. “He's alive, and I know where he is. Come on, get up, we haven't got much time!”

Bigwig blinked rapidly, Fiver's words slowly piercing his sleep-fogged brain. Then he bolted upright and came barreling out of bed so fast he nearly knocked Fiver off his feet. “I knew that idiot was too stubborn to kick it that easily,” he growled, trying to pull his pants and boots on at the same time.

When he was finally dressed, he looked up to see Fiver staring at him with wide eyes. Bigwig reached up to the wall and grabbed his rifle. “Well don't just stand there. Come on, let's go save your brother!”

Fiver's face broke into a tight, fierce grin, and he nodded fervently.

~

For so long, Hazel's world was heat and pain and the slow, steady throb of his own heart.

He dozed, his mind twisting out and wandering along the paths of the night. Sometimes he heard Fiver's voice calling his name, other times it felt like he was running, stumbling desperately along a winding tunnel, knowing that time was short but unable to remember where he was trying to go.

After a while, though, the pain began to fade. The heat was replaced by a numbness that crept through his bones and made him still, and silent, and he could only be grateful.

It wasn't dark anymore. There was a blank, white light behind his eyes that dulled his mind along with his body. It felt like he was drifting, floating away on a fast current.

His breathing slowed. He was starting to think,  _ this isn't so bad. It doesn't hurt anymore, it's almost... soothing... maybe I should just... just let it carry me away...  _

There was a sudden, hot flash of pain, and his eyes snapped open.

Light- real light, alive and  _ blinding _ , filled his senses. He tried to scream but all that came out was a harsh gasp.

He though he heard Bigwig's voice now, and then Dandelion's, gentling him, telling him it would be alright. The pain screamed through him, blotting everything else out. His eyes rolled up into his skull and everything stopped.

It felt like only seconds later that he was awake again. He was being carried down the river once more, but this time the boat was rocking sharply, and every jolt sent agony blazing through him.

He started screaming in earnest this time, until a cloth was forced over his nose and mouth and he breathed in a sickly-sweet scent until he passed out.

The next time he awoke, everything was still foggy and distant, but he sort of felt like himself again. He blinked up at a white-washed ceiling with a dim light glowing in the center of it. He frowned, trying to think where he might be.

Blackberry's face loomed over him out of nowhere and he flinched back, whimpering as the movement caused pain to blossom through him once again.

A soft hand brushed over his cheek. “Go to sleep, Hazel,” said Blackberry. “The worst of it is over now. You can sleep.”

Hazel let out a sigh of relief, closed his eyes, and slept.

~

Late in the afternoon the day they brought Hazel back from the dead, Keehar returned.

Bigwig went to meet him in the utility entrance. “Where are Holly's team now?”

Keehar shook his head sadly. “Lost 'em. Dey say 'you come to river at noon, ve meet you dere,' but dey no come. I wait an' wait, sun go down but dey no show up. I go look for dem tomorrow again.”

“Well great,” Bigwig growled. What the hell happened? As if he needed anything else to worry about...“Things aren't much better here. Long story short, we went on a raid and Hazel almost bit it.”

“Damn.” Keehar looked alarmed. “He good?”

“He'll be fine, but if it weren't for Fiver... well, let's just be glad for Fiver.” Bigwig clapped him on the shoulder. “Come inside, let's get you something to eat.”

He tried not to let it show as they went back into the tower and made their way to kitchens so Keehar could refuel, but he was seriously worried about Holly and his group. Had they been lost? Attacked by elil? Captured by hostile forces?

Whatever the case, he decided it was best not to tell the rest of them for now. It would do no good to have everyone in a panic over what was probably-  _ surely _ \- nothing.

~

When Hazel finally woke up for real, he was alone in the room.

_ His _ room, he realized after a moment of craning his head up and looking around. When he tried to sit up, it caused such an excruciating pain that he had to lay back and catch his breath before trying anything else.

A few minutes later, he cautiously raised a hand and felt over his chest. There were bandages around his torso- the bullet had lodged in his leg, but he must have scraped himself up pretty badly when he fell. When he pressed down, a deep, throbbing ache went through him. “Ow.”

The door creaked open, and he half-expected to see Blackberry- who seemed to have been taking care of him so far- or his brother. But in fact it was Pipkin who poked his head in. His worried expression gave way to shocked delight. “Hazel!

“Hullo, Pip!” He raised a hand, which was about the most he could do without hurting himself right now.

Pipkin ran to his bedside, then stopped and jerked his hands around awkwardly, trying to find a way to touch Hazel that wouldn't injure him. “I've been waiting for days! I- we- we thought you'd never wake up.” He finally settled for taking his hand and squeezing it firmly.

“How long have I been out?” Hazel asked. His heart felt like it was swelling in his chest to see Pipkin. He had thought he'd never get to see any of his friends again.

“About three days,” Pipkin replied. “Blackberry and Bigwig have been taking care of you.”

“I'll be sure to thank them,” Hazel murmured. “They're alright, then? They made it out? And Clover and Laurel, are they-”

“Everyone's fine, Hazel. Everyone made it back from the raid ok, and Clover and Laurel are settling in nicely.”

Hazel let out a deep sigh of relief, wincing when even that small movement jostled him and caused pain. “I'm glad. I can't believe I was such an idiot, getting everyone into trouble like that...”

Pipkin shook his head. “No one blames you. You got them back out, didn't you? That's what counts.”

Hazel couldn't think of anything to say to that. He didn't think he deserved to be forgiven, but he couldn't bring himself to brush Pipkin's words aside. Sweet, loyal, brave, kind Pipkin... How had he ever come to deserve a friend like him?

They stared at each other for a long moment. Pipkin swallowed, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and said, “I thought I'd lost you there.

Hazel smiled up at him, tired and fond. “You won't get rid of me that easily.”

Pipkin laughed, shook his head- then moved forwards and, taking Hazel's face in his hands, kissed him, soft and thorough and sweet.

Hazel blinked rapidly. When Pipkin pulled away, wiping furiously at his eyes and blushing bright red, Hazel looked at him-  _ really _ looked at him this time. 

Something slotted into place in Hazel's mind. “Oh,” he said, softly. “You- how- how long?”

Pipkin stared at the floor, wringing his hands. “Since Sandleford,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. “It- it was just a crush. And then we left, and I got to know you, and it... it got worse.”

Hazel reached up and touched his lips. He could feel himself flushing, and was grateful that his skin was darker than Pipkin's and would dull the effect. “... I take a while to, er, warm up to people,” he said. “I knew that I liked you a lot, but I never figured out it was...  _ more _ .”

Pipkin's eyes flashed back up to meet his, and his face brightened. “So, you- you too?”

Hazel swallowed and nodded. “I don't have much experience- and we'll have to take this slow. Like I said... I don't warm up quickly.” He grinned sheepishly. “But if you're interested, maybe we could try- a- a relationship? Of some kind?”

Pipkin  _ beamed _ . “I'm  _ very _ interested.”

“Kiss me again?” Hazel asked, his heart thudding hard in his chest.

Pipkin obliged him. Hazel reached up both his arms to tangle them in his soft, curly hair, ignoring the pain in his chest.

“FUCKING _FINALLY!_ ”

They jumped apart, Hazel wheezing as his back hit the mattress and Pipkin staring up with wide eyes.

Hawkbit was standing in the doorway, pointing at them with an expression of ultimate triumph. He was flanked by Blackberry, who wore a satisfied smirk as he leaned against the doorframe, and Dandelion, who's mouth was hanging open so far it was a wonder his jaw didn't fall off.

“Rabscuttle on a friggin hill, learn to _knock!_ ” Hazel shouted. Pipkin sank down next to the bed with his face in his hands, his entire neck flushing bright red.

Hawkbit turned to Dandelion “Ha! You owe me big time!”

“That's what I get for betting against Fiver I suppose,” Dandelion grumbled.

“Wait a second,” said Hazel, frowning. “Were you guys _betting_ on us?”

“Yup,” Blackberry said, crossing over to start checking on Hazel's bandages. “Dandelion here bet that you'd be too oblivious to notice how soppy you were on each other for at least another two months.”

“But I knew you couldn't keep your hands off each other for that long,” Hawkbit said smugly. “And Speedwell bet you were just friends- which is rubbish, I mean just _look_ at you two- and Strawberry said he thought you'd had a secret thing going on all this time, but I told him how bad Pipkin is at keeping secrets-”

“Thanks for that,” Pipkin muttered, his voice cracking oddly.

“-and I am going to _rake it in_ ,” Hawkbit finished, punching the air.

Hazel tried to be upset- he really, honestly tried to get angry at his friends for treating his love life like a game of bobstones to bet on.

But for some reason, he found himself starting to laugh. It bubbled up out of him relentlessly, hurting his chest and making him cough.

Pipkin stared at him in alarm. “Are you alright?!”

He nodded, waving a hand and trying to still his laughter, which made him feel like he was breaking up from the inside. Wincing, he lifted a hand to wipe the tears of pain and mirth from his cheeks. “I'm alive,” he croaked out, and giggled hysterically. “I really am alive!”

He was alive. After all the stupid mistakes he'd made and the risks he'd run, he'd somehow been given a second chance.

He had his brother. He had his friends. He had a  _ boyfriend _ now, maybe.

He was alive.

Pipkin smiled and took his hand. “Yes. Yes you are,” he said, and leaned in to kiss him one more time, in front of everyone.

~

Holly felt a soul-deep sense of relief when they reached the main tunnel leading to Watership. “We're almost back,” he assured his team.

“Thank Frith,” Silver mumbled, sagging into Buckthorn's supportive grip. The abscess around his eye had swollen again, and blood seeped from the bandages around his arm that desperately needed to be changed.

Holly wasn't in much better shape, but at least he could still walk unaided. He was exhausted, and the idea of coming back to food and drink and a warm bed to sleep on was almost enough to distract him from the despair tugging at the back of his mind.

They kept walking, and when the doors to Watership finally came within sight, Holly could have wept with joy. He wanted to run forward, but checked himself, falling back to help Silver instead.

When they reached the doors, Strawberry wearily punched in the code. The doors whooshed open, allowing the weary travelers to stumble inside.

Bigwig was there in the utility entrance, and he jerked back in surprise when they came through. “Holly? What the hell?”

“Silver needs medical attention,” Holly said. “Buckthorn, get him upstairs.”

“ _You_ need medical attention,” Bigwig said, rushing forwards to grab him by the shoulders. “What the hell happened to you? Why didn't you ever check in with Keehar?”

“It's a long story.” Holly sagged in Bigwig's grip. All at once, the last reserves of strength he'd been using to make it home were gone, and he felt hallowed out. “We're tired and hungry- and I don't want to have to tell it more than once.”

Bigwig frowned, but slung an arm around Holly's shoulders to help him walk. “Buckthorn, Silver, Strawberry- it's good to have you back. Go upstairs, the others will take care of you.”

They obeyed, leaving Bigwig and Holly alone in the cargo bay. Bigwig turned to him as they made their way slowly up the stairs, and asked, “Just tell me- did you find anything out there?”

Holly sighed heavily, the memories he had been trying to repress flooding back into his mind all at once. “... Yes. We found Efrafra. And... their threat is worse than we could have possibly imagined.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, like YOU could resist using that title at least once in a fic like this.
> 
> Sorry if this chapter is unusually long, I just- REALLY didn't want to split it in half, for various reasons.
> 
> Hazel's alive, yay! And the first pairing is revealed! I have to wonder if I managed to surprise any of you.
> 
> On a more artistic note, I'm really, really proud of Fiver's scene. I need to use his POV more often.
> 
> (Also, with this update, this is currently the longest fic in the Watership down tag. Hee. ^_^)


	17. Holly Returns

“ _I never thought, Hazel,” interrupted Holly, “I never thought that the time would come when I should feel obliged to speak against you. But I can only say again that this is likely to be a complete disaster. (…) Believe me, the best thing to do with a place like Efrafra is to stay as far from it as possible.”_

 

As Hazel recovered, he had a lot of time to think. As he spent the days dozing or staring at the ceiling or trying to concentrate on the books that Dandelion had lent him, he inevitably found himself thinking about the conversation he had with Holly just before he left.

He thought about responsibility; he thought about his fears, and his insecurities, and why everything had gone wrong during the Nuthanger raid. And he thought about what it meant to be chief in the kind of place he wanted Watership to be.

And finally, he decided that he needed to have a talk with Bigwig.

So that night, he arranged for Bigwig to come up and visit him in his room.

“Fiver said you wanted something from me?” Bigwig asked as he walked through the door.

Hazel nodded. “I need to talk to you about something-”

“First things first,” Bigwig said, and flicked him hard on the forehead.

“Ow!” Hazel reached up to rub the offended area. “What was that for?!”

“Fiver told me what happened before we left on the raid.” Bigwig crossed his arms.“You _completely ignored_ his warning? And then you didn't even tell the rest of us he'd had a vision?”

“It was only a vision about _me_ ,” Hazel grumbled.

“What did we say? What did we agree to _all the way back_ at that bloody temple?”

Hazel looked up at Bigwig's stormy face, and flushed with shame. “... We agreed to always listen to Fiver when he told us about a vision.”

“Exactly. And you know that's the reason you nearly _died_ , right? Because you were too much of a proud, stubborn idiot to listen to him?”

“Yes. I-I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize to _me_ ,” Bigwig said. “I expect you to give Fiver a full apology and a reassurance that you'll never ignore his advice again. Got it?”

“Yes. Of course.” Hazel bowed his head.

“Great.” Bigwig brightened immediately, clapping his hands together. “Glad that's over with! Now, what did you want to tell me?”

Hazel had been thinking long and hard about where he stood. He was starting to understand what Holly had told him, about how being a chief meant more than just giving orders.

And before he could make any decisions, he had an important question to ask.

“Bigwig, be honest with me,” Hazel said. “Do you want to be chief?”

Bigwig blinked at him a few times. “... _Hell_ no! Where did you get that idea from?!”

Whatever reaction Hazel had been expecting, that wasn't it. “W-well, I just- you always seemed to...  _resent_ me whenever I took charge of things, on our way here. I just assumed- well, that it was because  _you_ wanted to lead us.”

Bigwig sighed, and seated himself at the foot of Hazel's bed. “Kid, I've been balking at authority since the day I was born. When people give me orders, I get itchy. It wasn't about  _you,_ I wouldn't have treated anyone else better. _”_

“How did you ever survive being in the Owsla, then?” Hazel asked.

“Well, that's all thanks to Holly.” Bigwig rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “He was the first person since my parents to actually give a shit about me. And even then, it took me years before I trusted him completely. Do you remember how angry I was when we used to room together?”

Hazel nodded vigorously. “Oh, I remember.”

Bigwig laughed. “I was such an impulsive little brat. I would've made Hawkbit look sweet and patient by comparison. But anyway, I acted out so much because I was _scared_. I knew I couldn't survive on my own, but I didn't trust anyone else to  look after me.”

“Did you trust the Threarah?” Hazel asked, curious.

Bigwig snorted. “No way. All he cared about was continuing his 'line' by making sure Silver climbed the ranks fast enough to be his replacement. Goddamn nepotist.”

Hazel sat up a little in bed. “So... when we were traveling, why didn't you try to lead the group yourself?”

“Well, at first I was smart enough to know that if we started fighting, we wouldn't survive,” Bigwig said. “I wanted to keep the peace. But later on... I think it was after the temple that I realized how well we worked together. You on point, giving orders, me at your back making sure they got carried out. I- well, to put it bluntly, I came to trust you.”

“..Really?”

“Frith, Hazel, is that so hard to understand?” Bigwig sat back, making the bedsprings creak. “You're a lot like Holly, you know. You have this authoritative presence, but you never bully people or blow up. You're just- it's easy to get along with. Doesn't make me feel like crawling out of my skin to take orders from you.”

Hazel was so touched, for a second he thought he might cry. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and pretended to be really busy picking a loose thread out of his blanket. “That's- wow. You... have no idea how much that means to me, Bigwig. But- can you really trust me to be a good chief after I've screwed up so badly?”

“Like you're the first one to make a really dumb mistake in this group, 'Hazel-rah'.” Bigwig leaned over and punched him affectionately on the arm. “And if you let one dumb mistake keep you from achieving your goals, I'd lose all my respect for you.”

Hazel nodded. “... But are you really sure you don't want to be-”

“Are you kidding me?” Bigwig asked. “No! I don't want to be responsible for everyone who wants to come whining to me about their problems. I get enough of that as captain, and at least there I get to shoot things. Besides, if I had to be shut up in an office all the time, I'd get cabin fever and climb the fucking walls.”

That got a laugh out of Hazel. “Alright then. I guess there's no more dodging my fate.”

Bigwig grinned at him. He got up, and turned to leave- then stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot; Holly's back.”

Hazel's eyes widened. “Holly?! He's back? Is he ok, did everyone make it back alright? What did he find? Where-”

“Slow down.” Bigwig held out his hands. “He just got back yesterday. Everyone made it back, they're all fine. Apparently they found something pretty interesting back there- and pretty dangerous. They all look like they've been through hell.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Hazel demanded.

“Because he said he wanted to give you his report as soon as you were well enough.” Bigwig smirked. “And we knew that if we told you he was back, you'd want to hear it whether you were well enough or not.”

Hazel rolled his eyes. “Well, I'm up for it now. I can probably walk downstairs, if you want to call everyone to the meeting room-”

“We'll meet there tonight,” Bigwig said firmly. “And I can _carry_ you down there.”

Hazel bit back a retort that would have honestly just sounded petulant. “Fine. Tonight, then.”

“I'll let him know,” Bigwig said, and left the room.

~

That night, eleven of them gathered around the table in the meeting room. Holly, Buckthorn, Silver and Strawberry were there to give their report of the journey to Efrafra.

Hazel was propped up in a chair, trying to ignore the throbbing in his leg, and he had invited Bigwig, Dandelion, Blackberry, Fiver and Pipkin to join him. Bluebell was there as well, offering moral support to Holly.

Pipkin looked nervous at being included in the council. Hazel had asked him to attend when he came to visit him that afternoon.

“You don't have to come if you don't want to,” He'd said awkwardly, “But I would value your opinion.”

Pipkin nodded shyly. “I'd like that,” he'd said.

Looking around the room, Hazel's chest swelled with pride. Here was the humble beginning of a proper council, with a chief, and senior officers, and representatives from the owsla. With Holly there, they even had an elder.

On a more sobering note, Holly looked absolutely ravaged- and the rest of the group that had survived 'Efrafra' were hardly in better shape. Hazel felt bad for letting him lead the party in the first place; he'd gone through enough hell at Sandleford. He didn't deserve any more trouble.

Nevertheless, Holly had a story to tell, and as he sat down and clasped his hands on the table in front of him, a hush fell over the room.

He cleared his throat, and began to speak. “We traveled west for seven days, stopping to report to Keehar and let him correct our course as needed.

“On the eighth day, we started to see telltale signs of life; discarded food containers, footprints, other such things. We hoped to find the bunker they had originated from within the next couple of days.

“We intended to rendezvous with Keehar that night, but we were intercepted by a patrol. We tried to tell them they were just passing through, but they would hear none of it, and rounded us up to bring back to their bunker. They said we were a threat to their security.”

“But if they thought you were a threat, then why didn't they either attack you or drive you off?” Blackberry asked.

Holly shook his head. “This is where we start to get caught up in Efrafran logic. Hlessi are seen as a threat because they might draw unwanted attention to the bunker, either from elil or from other humans. It's of utmost importance to them that Efrafra's location is kept absolutely secret.”

“Why?” Hazel asked.

“We'll get to that,” Holly said grimly. “Anyway, we were taken back to the bunker, and sent to meet with their chief- a man by the name of General Woundwart.”

“General what, now?” Bigwig scoffed. “What a stupid name.”

“ _Y_ _ou're_ one to talk,” Dandelion quipped dryly.

Silver shot them both a withering glare. “The General is no laughing matter. He's the one who nearly blinded me.”

Bigwig sobered immediately. “Sorry.”

“We tried to explain ourselves to the general, but he wasn't interested,” Holly continued. “He told us that no one leaves Efrafra without permission, and he made it very clear that we weren't going to _get_ permission.”

“Efrafra is divided into four sections. Once you're assigned to a section, you sleep, eat, work, and die there- unless you get moved.

“Each section is under the jurisdiction of several owsla officers. The owsla, in turn, are under the orders of the owslafa- the bunker's elite military police. The owslafa work for the council, a small team who execute the orders of the General himself.”

“It's a brutally efficient system, but we could tell it's breaking down. It's the most horrifically overcrowded bunker I've ever been in. There are just too many people to keep track of, and since no one's allowed to leave, the only way the population can decrease is when people simply die.

“What section you're in is marked on your wrist.” Holly held up his right hand, prompting the others to follow suit. All of them had two small black lines tattooed on their wrists. “We were in section two. Thankfully we hadn't been split up, so for the first few days we just sat tight and tried to understand how things worked.

“Eventually, we fell in with this group who had been trying to make an escape plan for some time,” Holly said. “Their leader was named Hyzenthlay. She asked for our help in a reconnaissance mission, and in return, they would get us out of there.

“One of the women in the group had previously been on Efrafra's science team. Some years ago, she was kicked off for growing too curious about what exactly they were supposed to be developing.

“She was friends with one of the higher-ranking engineers- a man named Blackavar- and they were willing to help us escape, if we helped them figure out what was going on in the science department.

“They helped Strawberry and I sneak into one of the council offices where they kept records of such things. After searching through their files for several hours... we came across Efrafra's big secret.”

At this, Holly had to take a deep, steadying breath. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, swallowed hard, and continued; “ It's a weapon . They have...  this immensely powerful weapon, it can- Frith- it can target and destroy an entire bunker from miles away.” 

Hazel blinked, confused. Then the bottom dropped out of his stomach as he realized what that meant. “Sandleford,” he whispered.

Holly nodded tiredly. “Yes. They destroyed Sandleford.'

“But... why?” Pipkin asked. “Why would they- we never did _anything_ to them!”

“It was a test,” Holly said, rubbing a hand across his forehead and staring blankly down at the rough grain of the table. “Just a test, to see if their targeting system worked. Sandleford was... collateral damage.”

“Those bastards,” Bigwig whispered.

For a while, everyone around the table was silent, trying to digest the horrific information.

Hazel swallowed. “How... how did you escape?”

“Hyzenthlay and her friends helped us.” Holly sighed. “I wish we could have done something to help them in return, but...”

“I'm just glad you got back safe,” Bigwig murmured.

“But... but what can we do?” asked Blackberry, sounding shell-shocked. “About the- the weapons?

“Keep our heads low, and try not to attract their attention,” said Holly, his voice tinged with weary resignation. “Either they won't target us... or they will, and there's nothing we can do about it either way.”

“No.”

All eyes turned to Hazel, who sat up and squared his shoulders,  anger and determination swelling in his chest . “I refuse to accept that. I refuse to accept that we've come all this way, come through  _ so much _ , just to  sit back and hope we don't get killed in our sleep.”

There was a beat of silence. “Hazel, I don't think you understand,” Holly said. “We can't fight them. There are so many of them, and they have such powerful weapons at their disposal- they would flatten us.”

“Then we should go down fighting,” interjected Bigwig. “I've been holding my tongue all through your story, Holly- and no disrespect, but I'm with Hazel. There's got to be something more we can do.”

“You are all very brave, but I'm telling you, it's a fight we can't _win_.” For the first time, anger began to break through Holly's veneer of calm.

“Then we won't fight them,” said Blackberry. “We should trick them instead.”

“That's it!” Hazel said. “A nice, proper, clever trick; one that Elahrairah himself would be proud of.”

“I think you may be asking for the impossible, Hazel,” said Silver.

“Like this would be the first impossibility we've seen since we left Sandleford,” Dandelion pointed out. “And besides, if we could pull off a trick like that, think of the story we'd have to tell.”

“Provided any of us lived to tell it,” Silver shot back.

“The trick would have to do three things,” Hazel said. “We'd have to get inside Efrafra, somehow destroy or dismantle their Weapon- and then, ideally, make it out alive.”

“Even if you _could_ do such a thing,” Holly began, rubbing his forehead in frustration, “ you'd run the risk of bringing their full wrath down on Watership. Are you prepared for the possibility of losing everything you hold dear?”

Hazel met Holly's intense gaze and matched it. “If we  _ don't _ do this, other bunkers and settlements could lose even more. Are  _ you _ prepared for the  prospect of another Sandleford?”

Holly flinched, and Hazel immediately felt guilty. “I'm sorry, Holly, I didn't mean-”

“No... you're right.” Holly passed a hand over his face, and his eyes were grave. “...This goes beyond our lives.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, considering his solemn words.

Naturally, Bigwig was the first one to break the silence. “Well, I'm all for a good suicide mission. What about this big trick of yours, Blackberry? Any ideas yet?”

Blackberry bit his lip. “Well... I don't really have a clue about the first two parts, but as for getting away after- I might just have something brilliant.”

“Go on,” Hazel encouraged him. “When you're done, I think I've got an idea for the first bit.”

So they sat around the table on a rainy autumn afternoon, and plotted out the details of the greatest trick ever played.

~

As the meeting ended and everyone began to file out of the room, Hazel pulled Fiver aside. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked.

His brother looked at him like a scared rabbit, and Hazel felt his stomach twist with guilt.

“Fiver...” Hazel said softly. “I'm so sorry. I disregarded your advice once again. And worse than that, I broke my promise to you. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I truly am sorry.”

Fiver shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “It's fine. I don't really care if people listen to me or not anymore.”

“Fiver-”

“I'm tired, Hazel,” Fiver said quietly. “I'm tired of always having to _prove_ myself. And I'm- I'm tired of only being listened to when it's _useful_.  Like I'm just a tool.”

Hazel felt like his heart was breaking at the defeated tone of Fiver's voice. “That's not how I see you, not at all!”

“But it's _true!_ ” Fiver glared at him. “You only listen to me when you like what I'm saying, and as soon as I say something else, you don't _want_ me anymore!”

“Fiver, I will _always_ want you,” Hazel tried to reassure him. “You're my brother.”

“But what does that even _mean?!_ ” Fiver's hands balled into fists. “You said that you'd protect me, you said you'd be there for me, but ever since we made it to Watership you- you haven't even- you've hardly even _looked_ at me.” Tears began to roll down Fiver's cheeks and he curled in on himself, sobbing roughly and clutching at his stomach as though he was in pain.

“ _Frith_!” Hazel rushed forward and his his hands on Fiver's shoulders, leaning in to look at him. “Fiver, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry! I had no idea you felt this way!”

“Tha-at's b-because- because you weren't paying-ing attention,” Fiver choked out, his breath hitching. “You were so- so busy when we got here, and I didn't want to get in y-your way, but I was just so _lonely_.” 

Hazel hugged Fiver close to him, smoothing a hand through his soft hair. “My brother... My sweet little boy... Frith, I'm so sorry. There aren't any excuses; I should have made time for you.”

Fiver pushed his nose against Hazel's jacket, blinking slowly. “I feel like a child,” he murmured against the rough fabric.

“You are a child,” Hazel said, smiling slightly. He pulled away and gently tipped Fiver's chin up so they were looking eye-to-eye. “Fiver, you are the most important person in my life. It's because of you that I'm still alive today- and not just because you saved me from Nuthanger. And I never, ever want to make you feel like you're only around because you're useful to me. I _love_ you, Fiver; do you understand that?”

Fiver reached up to wipe his tears away. “...yeah.”

Hazel could see that it wasn't quite enough. He had hurt his brother badly, and it would take a long time to rebuild that bond of trust.

But Hazel would take all the time in the world if it was for Fiver.

Suddenly, his leg started to twinge badly. “Ow, ow, too much standing, ow...”

Fiver grabbed his arm. “I'm sorry! I shouldn't have made you walk. Here, I'll help you back to your room.”

“Thank you,” Hazel said as he leaned into Fiver's support. _Thank you for everything,_ he thought to himself.


	18. Efrafra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief implications of a character having a history of sexual harassment/assault.

“ _The frost is falling, the frost falls into my body._

_My nostrils, my ears are torpid under the frost._

_The swift will come in the spring, crying “News! News!_

_Does, dig new holes and flow with milk for your litters.”_

_I shall not hear. The embryos return_

_Into my dulled body. Across my sleep_

_There runs a wire fence to imprison the wind._

_I shall never hear the wind blowing again.”_

 

General Woundwart had lived for a very long time.

He wasn't prone to keeping track of the years as they went by; all he knew was that he was grown and aged but not yet old enough to sap the strength from him bones or the keen intelligence from his mind.

There had been other places, before Efrafra. There had been a childhood; parents and siblings, friends and enemies. There had been death and life, there had been travel and discovery, and there had been battle and blood and conquest.

General Woundwart was not one to dwell on the past, unless it would provide him of immediate use. Right now, the issue at hand was Efrafra, the maintenance and furthering of.

So when Captain Campion brought a brawny, shabby outsider into his office, his immediate thought was to determine who the man was, and whether or not he might prove a threat to Efrafra.

“Sir, we found this hlessi wandering out near the eastern river,” Campion said, keeping a firm grip on the man's shackles.

The man tried to wrench himself free of Campion's grip. “You can let me go now; what do you think I'm going to do, fight you off with by hands tied behind my back?!”

“Quiet.” Woundwart stood up, narrowing his eyes at the man. “...what's you name?”

He gave Woundwart a sullen expression, but stopped his squirming. “Thlayli.”

“ _Sir_ ,” Woundwort growled. “You're in my bunker now, and you'll show the proper respect. Now Thlayli, what were you doing wandering through the tunnels on your own? Are you from a bunker nearby?”

Thlayli shook his head. “I'm from the north. My old bunker was overcrowded, so I thought I'd try my luck on my own. Sir.”

“That's risky, though, traveling alone. You didn't think you'd be killed by elil?”

Thlayli shrugged. “I can hold my own in a fight, and I've mostly avoided them so far.”

Woundwart considered him for a moment. He liked the man's confidence, although it was a fine line between confidence and blithe stupidity. He certainly looked like a fighter, and even if he was a bit dumb, that would only make him less of a threat to Efrafra's ambition. “And you haven't found anywhere else to settle down?”

“Nowhere that interesting,” Thlayli said nonchalantly, looking around the room with an air of boredom. “Just a few podunk shell-towns with no real military to speak of.” There was a hint of challenge in his voice, as though daring Woundwart to make Efrafra worth his while.

Woundwart was the last to back off from a challenge. “Have you ever been in an owsla?”

“I was an officer at my old bunker.”

“It's just your luck, then, that I need officers.” Woundwart steepled his fingers on the desk in front of him. “You can fight, yes? Handle a gun, and a sword? Track and lead a patrol and not get yourself killed with a stupid mistake?”

“Yes, sir.”

Woundwart narrowed his eyes, considering the young man closely.

“Then welcome to Efrafra, Thayli. But before you leave this office, I have a question for you.” He leaned forward. “A few weeks ago, there was a band of outsiders who came by, caused us a nasty bit of trouble. You wouldn't happen to know anything about them, would you?”

Bigwig's face screwed up in thought. “Not off the top of my head, sir. I met some other travelers along the way; that might have been them.”

Woundwart gave him a long, searching look. “...Very well, then. You are dismissed. Campion, get someone to show him around.”

Campion nodded and led Bigwig from his office.

Woundwart stared after them for quite some time. He wasn't entirely sure that he trusted Bigwig; something about his story didn't sit right with him.

But in the end, it hardly mattered.  _ If he turns out to be trouble, I'll just kill him. _

~

Bigwig was passed off to an Owslafa officer who greeted him cheerfully. He was a short, stout man with sandy hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Fresh meat, huh? My name's Chervil. I'll show you around.” He extended a hand.

“I'm Thlayli,” Bigwig said, taking the offered handshake.“I look forward to working with you.”

He followed Chervil through Efrafra, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. This bunker was similar to Sandleford, but where Sandleford had been a cozy disarray of rambling tunnels and crooked floors, this place was harsh and regimented, every passage laid out on a grid. It was too clean, too bare, too sterile to be a place where people _lived._ It gave him the creeps.

He hadn't thought he would be the one assigned to this job- he'd been told quite bluntly, on more than one occasion, that he wasn't well-suited for delicate negotiations.

But Hazel was still bedridden and Holly wasn't much better, so the task fell to him.

_Lucky me_ , he thought wryly.

“The General's a bit intimidating, isn't he?” Chervil said, grinning crookedly. “Don't let him put you off; just keep your head down and do as you're told, and you'll get along just fine here.”

Bigwig nodded, trying to suppress a shudder. General Woundwart was definitely intimidating. Standing in front of him and lying his head off had been nerve-wracking, and Bigwig hoped he didn't have to do it again any time soon.

Chervil led him into a large room which was packed with people, but strangely still and quiet. Adults huddled around tables, playing quiet games of bobstones or talking to each other in carefully moderated voices. Children played in the corners, glancing nervously at the guards as though they might be interrupted at any moment. Somewhere, a baby started to cry, and no amount of frantic hushing on the part of the mother would quiet it.

Bigwig tried not to look as horrified as he felt. This place was  _ so  _ _ creepy _ ; it made the bloody temple look downright cheerful in comparison.

“You're in charge of section four,” said Chervil. “You'll be on the same shift as Nightshade- a good fellow, he'll show you the ropes. Guard-duty isn't difficult; all you need to do is keep this lot from causing any trouble, and 'escort' them when they need to move.”

Bigwig nodded, folding his hands behind his back and trying to look like he was paying full attention to Chervil as he prattled on, while subtly looking around the room. How was he supposed to find the people that had helped Holly? He couldn't ask for them by name, he was supposed to be a newcomer who didn't  _ know _ anything about Efrafra.

“- you can come and go as you like, of course. If you keep up good work for a few weeks, the General will have you out on patrols; that's real fun.” Chervil sounded like he was winding down, so Bigwig turned his attention back to him. “And if you have any questions, just ask me or another senior officer. Only- try not to have too many questions, right? It looks better if you're self-sufficient.”

“Thank you, sir.” Bigwig murmured.

Chervil clapped him on the shoulder. “Don't worry, you'll do fine. Big, capable lad like you will get promoted in no time. Now, come along, and we'll see about getting your section tattoo...”

~

Bigwig scratched absently at the four black lines on his wrist.

“Stop that,” Nightshade scolded him. “It won't heal right if you keep poking at it”

“But it itches,” he complained. “Do you have any more of that salve?”

“Don't be greedy,” he slapped Bigwig's hand away from his arm.

He sighed, and tried to think about something else.

It had been disturbingly easy for Bigwig to settle into his role as an officer. The people in his section were, for the most part, quiet and docile. The most he had to deal with his first day was herding them from place to place and breaking up a dispute over a bobstones game.

Four days later, and he was ready to tear his own skin off in frustration.

This place was horrible. It was so overcrowded that Bigwig had a constant, nagging sense of claustrophobia, but it was also quiet in a way that set his teeth on edge. It felt like everyone around him was screaming inside, but didn't dare make a sound for fear of being punished by the owslafa.

Now he understood why  Holly's group had all  returned to Watership  looking like they'd been to inle and back. Bigwig was just thankful he got to be a guard rather than a civilian; at least he had a small amount of autonomy.

Not that he got to exercise it much. They'd kept him busy the last few days, giving him odd jobs when he wasn't on guard duty. He had so much to do, there hadn't been time to look for Holly's rebel friends at all.

A whistle sounded over the comm system, heralding bed time for the section four civilians.

Nightshade yawned. “About time. I'll get this lot to bed, Thlayli; you go and wake our replacements up.”

Bigwig nodded. “Thanks.”

As he trotted off to bed, rubbing the stiffness out of his neck and wondering if he could get a decent shower tonight, a woman came walking past him in the corridor, her eyes averted.

Civilians weren't supposed to be wandering around after lights out, so he came up to her. “Excuse me, but shouldn't you be in bed right about now?”

“I'm sorry, sir,” she said quietly, flinching away from him as though expecting a blow.

It broke his heart to see these people so fearful of him. “Don't worry about it; I'll escort you back to your quarters, no one else has to know.” She still seemed uncomfortable, so he tried to melt the ice. “I'm Thlayli; I'm new here. What's your name?”

“Hyzenthlay, sir,” she murmured, not looking at him.

Bigwig stopped in his tracks. Oh, now this was rich; after days of worrying about how he would find the group he was looking for, and now their leader practically fell into his lap!

“Hyzenthlay! Oh, that- that's great!” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I need to talk to you in private,” he said, lowering his voice and looking around suspiciously for anyone who might be listening.

She stiffened. “... I'm sorry, sir. I'm not- you must be mistaken. I'm not... available.” She stared firmly at the ground, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

_ Oh _ . Bigwig felt a blush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. “That- that's not what I meant! Look- I'm a friend of Holly. Do you remember him?”

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. “...Are you from the council?”

“No, no! I'm a spy from Watership. He told you about Watership, right?”

She didn't answer, still looking at him warily. But slowly, her expression turned from a cautious frown to something more thoughtful. “... You are, aren't you?”

He blinked in surprise, then smiled cautiously. “Please, can I just talk to you for a minute?”

After a moment, she nodded again.

He led her back into an empty storage room. He leaned up against the far wall, giving her as much space as possible. “You were one of the ones who helped Holly escape, right?”

“Yes,” she began, hesitantly. “They- did they make it back alright?”

“They're all fine,” he assured her.

“And... they told you what they found here?” her voice grew serious.

“Yeah. But that's what I'm here for!” He said enthusiastically. “We've made a plan to disable the bomb targeting systems.”

She stared at him. “... You think it can be done?”

“Sure it can. But I'm going to need your help, if you can offer it.” And then, acting on a whim, he continued, “And if you can help me out, I promise to take you back with me when I escape.

She stared at him for several moments. Then she looked down. “Maybe-  _ maybe _ we can take out the targeting systems. But even if we manage that, escaping from here... I've tried, more than once. It was an absolute fluke that Holly and his friends managed it, and we had to act as their scapegoats. They split  us up into different sections, and Blackavar...  he sacrificed himself to keep the rest of us from getting into worse trouble. Anyway, you don't need to make promises you can't keep. If we can get you out safely, that will be enough for me.”

Bigwig shook his head. “No, you've done too much for us already. Either you're coming with me, or we'll face the consequences together.”

She looked back up at him, and for a moment her face was completely vulnerable. Then it hardened into a look of resolve. “If I'm getting out, then so are my friends. No exceptions.”

“Sounds fair,” Bigwig said. What he didn't say was that they had just about as little chance of getting the two of them out safely as they did five or six. It didn't matter if the odds were stacked against them even more. “I just have to ask; how can you trust me so easily?”

“I... I just know that I _can_ ,” she said quietly. “I get feelings like this sometimes. Not so often anymore; my mind has become clouded.”

Bigwig blinked. Holly hadn't said anything about her being a seer.

“Every once in a while, I... I _see_ things,” she murmured. “Strange things- awful things, sometimes- fire and death, or- or just silly things, like... like a big machine, flying through the air.”

Bigwig smiled and put a hand on your shoulder. “You should meet my friend Fiver; he talks just the same way.”

She looked up at him, her expression one of hope that has burned bright for so long that it's almost gone out. “Will you truly help us?” she asked.

He nodded. “ But I'll need your help, all the strength and courage and wit that you and your friends can muster.”

Her eyes blazed. “I would die for freedom.”

Bigwig found he _liked_ her. “So would I. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that.”


	19. The Plan

_Bluebell sat up on his hind legs and said “Please, General Woundwart, sir, I'm only a little Hrududu and I've left all my petrol on the grass, so if you wouldn't mind eating the grass, sir, while I just give this lady a ride-”_

“ _Bluebell,” said Hazel, “Shut up!”_

 

The owsla officers all slept in a dormitory together, and Bigwig had trouble getting to sleep at night. He'd been spoiled by having  a room at Watership  that he only had to share with Silver. He'd forgotten how  _ noisy _ living in a barracks was, with people snoring and talking and getting up and down at odd hours to change shifts.

He was groggy and disoriented when he finally got shaken awake. “Hey, man, time for your next shift!” someone hissed in his ear. He batted them away, grumbling, and hauled himself up out of bed.

He had a little time before his shift technically began, so he decided to explore the bunker- it would help to know more about the layout of the place before he put the plan into action.

He wandered along the tunnels for some time, mentally marking his way to keep from getting lost. A good memory and sense of direction was vital for an owsla officer; if you were prone to getting lost, you'd be dead on your first patrol.

Eventually, he came to a corridor that, according to a sign posted to one wall, lead back to section four. Halfway down the hall, he almost jumped out of his skin as he stumbled over a shape in the darkness.

He reeled back, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust so he could understand what he was looking at.

A man was hunched over on the floor, tied to a post by a thin length of chain. A guard stood over him, smoking a cigarette and looking bored.

The crouching man's clothes might have been very fine once, but they were ragged and dirty, and as Bigwig looked closer, he could see that the man was marked up with cuts and bruises where the tattered edges of fabric failed to cover him. He stared down listlessly, trembling slightly.

“Er- who're you?” Bigwig asked tentatively.

The man startled as though he'd heard a gunshot and started babbling. “I-I-I'm an example to the bunker- I defied the will of the council, and was rightfully punished- I am lucky to have my own life, m-m-my- the council was merciful- t-t-the council was merciful-!”

“That's enough!” The guard kicked him in the ribs, and he quieted down, cowering against the concrete floor.

Bigwig had to bite his tongue to keep from showing how appalled he was. The guard seemed to see it in his face anyway, and laughed. “This is Blackavar; He and a bunch 'o birds tried to run off a few weeks back. We're supposed to keep 'im out here as an example to the rest- to be honest, I think it's more trouble than it's worth. Keeps us away from real Owsla work, guardin' a scrap 'o meat like 'im.”

 _Blackavar._ Holly had mentioned him before, and Hyzenthlay had, too. _H_ _e sacrificed himself to keep the rest of us from getting into worse trouble_ _,_ she'd said. This was what she meant.

Bigwig tried to catch his eye, but his eyes were cast down, staring sightlessly into the dirt.

_ Well, I can't talk to him with guards around anyway _ , he thought.  _ But I'm not leaving the poor fellow here, whatever happens. _

He sure hoped Keehar's plane could handle all these extra passengers.

~

The hours on guard-duty dragged by. Bigwig had never hoped for someone to start a fight more than he hoped today. At least he got to rest his head back against the wall and doze for a bit.

It was ages until he finally managed to catch up with Hyzenthlay and talk to her again. They huddled in a back hallway and he told her about meeting Blackavar that morning.

She shook her head slowly. “I feel so bad for what happened to him. He was a senior scientist who knew a little about the... _weapon._ He helped us get into the council offices from the inside. Afterwards, he took the fall for us, told the council he'd forced us to join his escape plan that he masterminded. They... they tore him to pieces.” She looked for a moment like she was fighting back tears. “We can't leave him behind, but he's under guard twenty-four-seven, I don't see how we can get past that.”

“We'll get him out last,” Bigwig said. “After we disable the Weapon, the owslafa will already be on our tails and it won't matter if we draw attention to ourselves. How many others are there?”

“Three. Vilthuril and Thethuhinnang are in section one,” Hyzenthlay said. “Thethu is the one you'll need to talk to about the computers. The last one, Nelthilta, is by herself in section three.”

Bigwig nodded. “I'll get them up to date. But- how can I get them to trust me?”

“There's a code word we devised some time ago, just in case something like this happened.” Hyzenthlay leaned up and whispered it into his ear.

Bigwig nodded. “Now, I'd better get back to my shift before they miss me. I'll go visit your friends and bring them up to speed after I'm done.”

~

As soon as his shift ended, he went to section one. In the crowd of unfamiliar civilian faces it was impossible to pick out the two women he was looking for, so eventually he just asked a guard.

Fortunately, she didn't seem to find his request suspicious- she looked as bored as he'd been earlier- and waved him over to where they were sitting at a table.

The two of them were a study in opposites. One was tall, brown, and lanky, with an oversized hat sitting askew on her curly hair. From the angles of her face and the flat plane of her chest, Bigwig wondered if she might be trans like Blackberry.

The other was short, chubby, and pale, with waves of black hair that fell down her shoulders. She was wearing a blue sweater that seemed like it would be uncomfortable in the clammy heat of the common rooms.

They both stared nervously as he approached them. The taller one sat up straight and said said, “O-officer! This is a surprise.” Her gaze lowered. “Are we- are we in trouble?” she asked timidly.

“Not that we have any reason to think we _might_ be, of course,”  said the short one. 

“No, no, it's alright.” Bigwig sat down by them and leaned in. “I'm here with a message from Hyzenthlay.”

Both of them started, and then hurriedly looked in opposite directions. “No idea who that is,” the short one said firmly, just as the tall one said “We don't associate with her.”

Bigwig suppressed a smile. “Yeah, I thought you might say that. She said there's a codeword to give you, to prove that it's really from her.”

The shorter one cast a curious gla n ce at him. “Well.. if I knew this hypothetical  _ codeword _ \- which I  _ don't _ , obviously- it would be...?”

Bigwig huffed a sigh, then leaned in to whisper it in her ear. Immediately she sat up and grinned. “Oh! It's alright, Thethu, he's for real.”

“Oh good,” 'Thethu' said, heaving out a sigh of relief. “In that case, I'm Thethuthinnang, and this is Vilthuril. It's good to meet you-?”

Bigwig had to bite his lip not to laugh. “I'm Thlayli. I'm here to talk to you about the Weapon.”

Both girls cringed and looked warily around. “Please keep your voice down,” Vilthuril whispered. “We're mincemeat if anyone finds out what we know.”

“I'll try and make this quick, then,” said Bigwig. “Three days from now, we're going to disable the Weapon and then make a run for it, and go back to my home bunker.”

They stared at him. He prepared himself for a deluge of questions and doubts and reasons why this was impossible- and so, he wasn't at  _ all _ prepared for Thethuthinnang to break into a huge grin and say “Finally!”

“I was a little afraid Hyzenthlay would just give up after this last failed attempt,” Vilthuril said. “Especially after we got separated- she... doesn't do so well on her own. But now she's back in action.”

“Hey, it's _my_ plan,” Bigwig grumbled good-naturedly.

“Sure, sure,” Thethuthinnang waved him off. “Now, tell me _absolutely everything_ so I'm ready when the time comes!

He relayed the plan as quickly and quietly as he could. Every once in a while he turned to look at the guards, nervous that they were getting suspicious, but the female guard looked like she had gone into a coma standing up and the others were in the corner playing bobstones.

“Thank you for filling us in,” Vilthuril said when he was done.

“No problem. Now I just need to find- what's her name? Nellie?”

“Nelthilta,” Thethuthinnang corrected. “You should be able to find her easily; she'll be wearing a jacket covered in patches.”

“And probably causing a scene,” Vilthuril grumbled.

Bigwig thanked them, then left to go find the final member of the group in section three.

~

Just as they had said, it was easy to spot Nelthilta. As soon as he walked into the section three common room, he was met with yelling and the sound of flesh on flesh.

Pushing through the crowd of curious onlookers, he saw the source of the confrontation; a small group of guards were circled around a young woman in a ragged jacket who was shouting profanities at them.

He watched in astonishment as she tried to struggle out of one man's grip, shrieking profanities and twisting around, trying to bite his hands. She was surprisingly strong for her size and spindly figure; it wasn't just anyone who could get three owsla officers on the ropes.

“ _Bastards!_ ” She yelled. “Stupid, cowardly, flea bitten-!”

Finally, one of the guards managed to get her in a headlock and mostly control her movements. Then, to Bigwig's horror, he pushed her forward and slammed her down against a table, hard. The breath wheezed out of her and she struggled weakly, unable to get away before the guard picked her up and slammed her again.

He straightened up, chuckling. “There, you see? Her kind's easy to deal with, all fight until you discipline them. You just have to learn to stop coddling them.”

He hauled her upright by the hair and she hung limply in his grasp, her eyes glassy and her mouth hanging open.

Bigwig felt rage rising inside of him. He'd seen owsla officers abusing their positions before, bullying civs and even roughing them up a bit. Hell, it wasn't like _he'd_ never been a little rougher than he really should have when someone was annoying him.

But he'd _never_ seen anything like that. She probably had a concussion, and the officer was grinning fiercely, excited by the violence. He'd _liked_ hurting her, and it looked like he wouldn't mind doing it again.

It made his skin crawl. It made him _really mad_. He had half a mind to slam that man's head into a table, and see how he liked being on the receiving end of owsla brutality.

But before he could do anything foolish, the guard caught sight of him. “Hey, new boy! Take this down to the Council. It needs further discipline.”

He practically threw Nelthilta at Bigwig, who caught her up in his arms. “Yes sir,” he grunted, and pulled her outside as gently as he could without attracting suspicion.

As soon as they got through the doors, he leaned down to inspect her. “Are you alright?” he whispered, pushing her hair back and trying to check her eyes.

But she growled and shoved his hands away. “I'm  _ fine _ , stop  _ touching _ me!” she straightened up, wincing and putting a hand to her head. She looked like she was biting her tongue to keep from crying out at the pain.

He had forgotten for a moment that he was a guard, and she would have no reason to trust him. He backed off, giving her space to catch her breath.

She glared up at him. Her dark-brown eyes simmered with rage, but her hands were trembling. She was afraid, and yet she stood up to him; Bigwig had to admire her just for that. “Well? Aren't you taking me to the council?” she spat.

“I'm not really a guard,” Bigwig said. “I have a message for you, from Hyzenthlay.”

Nelthilta stiffened. Her eyes closed, and her mouth twisted into a sneer. “I want nothing to do with _that woman_ ,” she said, her voice cold.

He was surprised; everyone else seemed to like and respect Hyzenthlay. “But she's planning to escape; don't you want in on that?”

“Yes, that's exactly what she said last time!” Nelthilta leaned against the wall, scowling. “And the time before that, and the time before that! She's a sad, delusional old hag, and I'm sick and tired of getting my hopes up over her.”

Bigwig was shocked; he thought this girl was Hyzenthlay's friend. _If she hates her so much, why does Hyzenthlay want to bring her along?_

He sighed. He didn't have time for this. “Suit yourself; we'll just leave you behind, then.”

Nelthilta's eyes flashed, and she looked back at him. “Wait, are you serious? She's really trying to get out again?”

Bigwig nodded. “But I mean, if you're happy staying here...”

“I'll come with you,” Nelthilta said hurriedly. “Even if we get caught, they can't do much worse to me than they already have.”

“Alright then, I'll tell you the plan while we walk to the council,” Bigwig said. “Hold on, though- why are you trusting me? I never even told you the codeword.”

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a slow, toothy smile. “Because an owlsa officer trying to trick me out of information wouldn't be half as stupid and obvious as you.”

He huffed indignantly. “Get a move on,” he growled, and led her down the tunnel to the council offices.

~~~

Once she was being given over to custody of the council, she lost a certain amount of her bravado. Her lips trembled but stayed in a pinched line as she was cuffed and led away.

Bigwig felt bad for her. She was sort of obnoxious, but no one deserved to be treated like that. _Frith, if I ever start to go corrupt_ _like this_ _, just cut me down where I stand_ , he thought sadly.

He turned to leave the office, but was intercepted by Chervil before he could go.

“Oh, Thlayli, lucky you're here,” Chervil said. “The General just said he wants a word with you.”

Bigwig's insides froze. His shock and horror must have registered on his face, as Chervil laughed. “Don't look so scared, he didn't seem angry. Just probably wants to give you a job or something. Really, you should be proud.”

Bigwig forced a stiff smile “Yeah, probably.”  _ It doesn't matter what he wants; any word from the General is bad news. _

~

Standing in General Woundwart's office and enduring his piercing gaze was just as terrifying as it had been the first time.

“You wanted to tell me something, sir?” Bigwig asked hesitantly.

The General nodded. “Yes. There have been strange reports from my men lately. Reports of a great white shape being seen in the sky.”

He hadn't thought it was possible to get more scared. Apparently it was. He screwed up his face into the best look of dumb confusion he could muster. “What, some kind of big cloud?”

“Don't get pert with me, boy,” Woundwart snapped. “It has been spotted circling the area of the bunker multiple times. Some of the younger members of the staff are saying that's it's the legendary bird from an old story. What do you think of such stories, Thayli?”

Bigwig shrugged. “I don't know, sir. I've never seen a bird myself, but I won't presume to say that means they can't exist.”

It was difficult to tell what Woundwart's expression meant, if he was amused, or calculating, or angry. “Others have speculated that it may be some sort of machine built to travel through the sky. What do you think of that rumour?”

“Now _that's_ nonsense, sir- how could something made of metal get into the air?” Bigwig lied through his fucking teeth. _Well, that's what I thought a few weeks ago._

“So you don't believe in flying machines.”

“No, sir.”

“And you'll swear you've never seen one before? You know nothing about this anomaly at all?”

“No, sir.”

“You'd swear this on you life?”

“Absolutely, sir.” He was sweating so hard, he was half-terrified that the General would notice his stench and call him on his bluff.

Woundwart stared at him, and Bigwig started to panic internally.  _ He knows, he knows, he's not a  _ _ goddamn _ _ idiot he know _ _ s _ _ I'm lying and he's going to string up my guts as an example for the rest of his people- _

Just as the silence became unbearable, Chervil burst through the door. “Sir, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but there's an emergency.”

“It can wait,” Woundwart said, never taking his eyes off Bigwig.

“I'm so sorry, sir, but it really can't- Officer Briar says that he- that the _project_ he's been working on, you know, the _thing_ \- he says there's been a problem, and he needs you to come as quickly as you can and-”

Woundwart heaved a sigh. “Fine, I will come as soon as I'm able. Now get out of my office.”

Chervil darted out with a meek “Thank you, sir,” thrown over his shoulder.

Bigwig had no idea what Chervil was talking about, but he could have kissed the man for interrupting them.

“Those idiots,” Woundwart growled. Then he motioned for Bigwig to get up. “Dismissed, I have other matters to attend to.”

Bigwig nodded and got up to leave, trying to control his breathing.

“Oh, and Thlayli?”

He froze. “Yes, sir?

“... If I find out that you're lying, the consequences will be unpleasant for you.”

Bigwig nodded. “Of course sir. That's why I wouldn't lie to you.”

The General stayed still, staring at him for so long that Bigwig was sure any moment he was going to leap up from his desk and tear Bigwig's throat out. But finally he just said, “Back to your duties.”

Bigwig bowed shortly, turned, and tried to leave as quietly and calmly as possible, even though his heart was screaming at him to run for his fucking life.

~

That night, when he met with Hyzenthlay again, he put his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.

“Change of plans,” he said grimly. “We're doing it tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the delays recently; I've been sick, which is all KINDS of fun to deal with. XP
> 
> Aaaand enter Thethuthinnang, Vilthuril, and Nelthilta! As some of the few women present in the book, I tried to give them interesting and unique characters.


	20. A Shaft of White Lightning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a brief mention of sexual harassment:

“ _O fly away, great bird so white!_

_And don't come back until tonight!”_

 

It was risky for him to change the plan so suddenly; first of all, he had no way of notifying the women in the other sections of the change beforehand. He would just have to get the ball rolling and pick them up as he went along.

Second, it wasn't guaranteed that Keehar would be waiting for them. He would just have to hope that he had landed somewhere nearby and they could jump on the plane and take off as soon as their  mission was completed.

Yes, there were some major risks, but all in all he would rather start now and deal with mistakes as they came up rather than wait and be discovered by the General.

The first step was to sneak Hyzenthlay out of her section.

It was very easy. As soon as his morning shift was over and it was time for him to switch with another guard, he waited until Nightshade's back was turned. Then he sidled up to Hyzenthlay, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and walked her right out.

“Now, I'm going to drop you off at section three so you can let Nelthilta in on the plan. Just lay low, and no one should even know you're out of place,” Bigwig whispered to her. “Don't be nervous, ok?”

She gently laid a hand on his chest. “Don't  _ you _ get nervous.”

He laughed, surprised at how she'd seen right through him. “Right.”

It was just then that someone turned the corner and came walking towards them. They jumped apart, but Bigwig knew they already looked guilty.

His spirits sank when he realized it was  _ Chervil _ coming towards them. The man frowned at them. 

“I- I was just escorting this civilian, to- er-” Bigwig stuttered, but Chervil cut him off.

“Can I have a word with you, Thlayli?”

Bigwig nodded miserably and walked forward. He could fight Chervil off and run if they had to, but if someone noticed the commotion it would ruin the head start they needed to sabotage the systems, much less escape afterward.

Chervil led them just far enough to presumably be out of earshot to Hyzenthlay. “Thlayli, I can't help but have noticed, you're spending an awful lot of time around that girl lately.”

_ Hopping Rabscuttle on a hill, we're caught _ . Bigwig swallowed his panic. “Uhm, yes? Is there a problem with that?”

“Oh no, no problem.” Chervil bumped him with his elbow and dropped a wink. “Good going, man. She's a fine creature; I just wanted to warn you, she's a little... uppity. She was involved in some big fiasco a few months back, fell in with this group of ruffians... but really, she seems fond of you, maybe a little romancing will help her settle down.”

Bigwig decided to play along, although it left a bad taste in his mouth. Chervil was a nice enough fellow, but he'd seen the kind of harassment towards young men and women that went on behind closed doors in the Sandleford owsla; it couldn't be anything but worse in a place like this. “Oh yeah, she's... she's good. I'll keep an eye on her, though, don't you worry.”

Chervil chuckled. “One of the perks of being an officer; you'll pretty much have your pick of the eligible singles here. I mean, what's the fun in having power if you can't put it to good use?

“Why indeed,” Bigwig said dully.

“Anyway, have fun, you old dog.” And he sauntered off down the corridor, whistling cheerfully.

Bigwig allowed himself a small shudder of disgust, then turned and hurried back to where Hyzenthlay was waiting for him. She looked disgusted as well.

Bigwig reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, then thought better of it. “You heard that?”

She nodded slightly. “I don't like him.”

His lip curled. “I don't blame you. Don't worry, back at Watership, I'm captain of the owsla, and I'll make sure no one like that becomes an officer.”

She smiled a little at that. “ I'm sure you won't. Anyway, I was going to tell you- you need to make sure the others get out. Especially Blackavar and Nelthilta. If it comes down between saving me and saving them, please choose them.”

It hurt to hear her talk like that. He wanted to protest, but he could tell this was important to her. “...I will.”

She sighed and relaxed. “Thank you,” she said, earnestly.

He smiled tightly. “I'll walk you the rest of the way.”

~

After dropping Hyzenthlay off, it was time to put the next step of the plan into action.

Bigwig tried to look inconspicuous as he made his way into section one and sidled up to Thethuthinnang and Vilthuril. “You two- come with me. The council wants a word with you.”

They both stared at him, wide eyed. He tried to wink subtly.

“Oh!” Vilthuril said, too loud. “Oh yes, of course. I mean, oh no, why would the council possibly want to talk to us??”

“How terribly inconvenient,” Thethuthinnang said.

_ I am surrounded by amateurs _ , Bigwig thought despairingly. “Come with me.”

As he'd suspected, they were stopped at the door by one of the guards. “Who authorized you to apprehend civs from our section?” The man asked, scowling.

“I came directly from the Council,” Bigwig said, hoping that the threat of their name would scare him off.

No such luck. The man folded his arms. “Can I get some proof of that?”

Bigwig rolled his eyes and heaved a deliberate sigh. “Oh, well, I guess I'll just go back and tell them that you objected to me carrying out my orders. I know they won't be happy when their next appointment has to be pushed back, but if we're lucky they  _ probably _ won't get the General involved. What did you say your name was again?”

This time, the man backed off. “Y-you can take them. Sorry.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Bigwig said pointedly, and led the two women out of the hall.

When they were a good distance away, Vilthuril squealed quietly and grabbed his arm. “That was  _ so cool! _ ”

He laughed. “Thanks, but let's not draw attention to ourselves.”

Next came the tricky part; getting into the secure laboratory where they kept the computers that guided the Weapon.

When they got to the corridor that turned and led to the lab, Bigwig stopped and turned to his companions. “You two stay here, up against the wall like that. If all goes to plan, they shouldn't see you.

“And what if they do?” Thethuthinnang asked.

“Run like hell and hope they don't catch you.”

She scowled at him. “Thanks.”

He turned the corner and strode up to the doors. Two guards were standing on either side, looking bored as hell.

“All senior officers are required down at the far end of section 4,” Bigwig said, trying to sound as official as possible. “I'll take your post for you.”

The two looked at each other. “We didn't hear any alarms go off,” the one on the left said, concerned.

“Someone's tampered with the wiring system,” Bigwig improvised. “They think it might have been an escape attempt and they're trying to make sure no-one's missing.”

That was enough. The guards thanked him and ran down the corridor.

As soon as they were gone, Thethuthinnang and Vilthuril nervously poked their heads around the corner.

He motioned for them to come. “Hurry, we haven't got much time! And how do we get through these doors, anyway? There's a keypad here, do you know the codes?”

Thethuthinnang pulled something out of her shirt and plugged it into a socket under the door's keypad. After a few seconds, sparks flew out of the socket and the doors slid opened.

Thethuthinnang grinned. “I've been waiting to use  this thing for  _ ages _ .”

“Come on, let's do this!” Bigwig gently pushed her through the doors.

“I'll keep a look out,” Vilthuril said. “You two get to work.”

The laboratory was mercifully empty. It stank of chemicals, making Bigwig sneeze, and it was filled with rows and rows of big, blocky pieces of hardware. “What are we looking for, here?”

Thethuthinang shoved a stack of boxes off the top of one table. “All we need to do is corrupt the tracking information; the weapon is entirely useless without it. It's hosted on this computer, but there are multiple backups- find the ones with a serial number between 250 and 256 and I'll set up the system-wipe codes.”

“Cereal-what?” Bigwig snapped.

“There should be a small number on the back. Start checking the computers on the left side of the room.”

It took a long time to check each computer, and Bigwig felt more and more uncomfortable as the minutes passed.

Any second now, the owslafa were going to realize someone had broken in. They were going to sound the alarm, and then everything would be over and it would all be for nothing if they couldn't  _ destroy the bloody  _ _ weapon _ _. _

Finally, he found the numbers they were looking for. “Over here!” he whispered to her.

Thethuthinnang hurried over and checked the number. “Yes! This is it!” She pulled a small plastic plug out of her pocket and stuck it into an outlet on the front of the computer.

The thing whirred like an overheating motor, then sparks spattered out of the socket. Bigwig jumped back in alarm.

Thethuthinnang repeated the process on all six computers, and then the deed was done. She stared down at the little plug in her hands. “I- I  _ did _ it.” Thethuthinnang looked shocked. “I just sabotaged the most destructive weapon in the known world!”

Alarms began to blare, and they both looked up, startled.

“That's amazing,” Bigwig said. “Now let's _get the hell out of here._ ”

~

The next step was to meet up with Hyzenthlay and Nelthilta. Bigwig knew they had played their luck out too long when he rounded the corner and the women weren't hiding in a small alcove like they had planned.

“What do we do?” Thethuthinnang asked, wringing her hands. “We can't wait for them!”

“Unfortunately, you're right.” Bigwig rubbed a hand over his forehead. “We have to go get Blackavar. If worst comes to worst, Hyzenthlay will probably get off easier than him if she gets left behind.”

It went against everything he was made of to leave someone behind on a mission, but he knew all to well from years of being an owsla officer that sometimes sacrifices were necessary, no matter how painful they might be.

And she had asked for him to protect her friends. He couldn't let her down.

The hall where he'd seen Blackavar before wasn't too far away, but running the entire way took it out of him. By the time he ran up to the guard, he was completely out of breath. “I'm here to relieve your shift,” he said, panting.

The man just stared. “What the hell, mate? Don't you hear the alarms? We're on lockdown! And why are those civ girls with you?!”

“You know, it would have been much easier for you if you'd bought it,” Bigwig said, and punched him in the face.

He fell over backwards. Bigwig flexed his hand. “Ughh, his head was hard. You ok, buddy?” he asked, turning to Blackavar.

The man was still on the floor, staring at him. “W-who...?”

“'Blackavar, It's us!” Vilthuril came forward to help him out of his restraints. “We're busting out!”

He looked confused for a moment, and then he snapped into intense focus and struggled to his feet. “Where are the others?”

“Not here yet, we haven't had time to look for them,” Bigwig said. “Hyzenthlay told me that if we couldn't get to her, you guys were our first priority.”

Blackavar groaned. “Of  _ course _ she said that. We need to go back and look for her.”

“Agreed. But first-” Bigwig slung his heavy leather jacket off and put it over Blackavar's shoulders. “You looked cold. I'm sorry I couldn't get you out earlier.”

“..'s fine.” Blackavar seemed a little bewildered at the sudden act of kindness, but he already looked better than the frightened, broken shell of a man Bigwig had passed in the hall just yesterday.

Just then, there were footsteps at the end of the hall. Bigwig spun around, pulling out his sword and putting himself in front of his companions.

But it wasn't owslafa officers who rounded the corner- it was Hyzenthlay and Nelthilta.

“You made it out!” Bigwig exclaimed, re-sheathing his sword so he could put his hands on Hyzenthlay's shoulders. “Are you alright?”

“We're fine,” she said, leaning into his touch. “Nelthilta started a fight, and we sneaked out under the confusion. Oh,” she turned to Nelthilta, “I meant to tell you you have an impressive left hook.”

Nelthilta shrugged, but couldn't quite conceal that the compliment pleased her. “I didn't know you could bite so hard.”  
Hyzenthlay grinned viciously. “Anyway, we should hurry; they'll find us here if we hang around.”

Bigwig helped Blackavar as they ran through the cold tunnels. They encountered a few stray owsla on their way, but none of them wanted to mess with a band of escapees on their own.

Finally, they reached the service exit that Bigwig had estimated would take them up near where Keehar was supposed to meet them. He carefully handed Blackavar off to Thethuthinnang, then ran forward to deal with the one officer guarding the door.

The woman dropped her gun and knelt on the floor, putting her hands over her head. “Do what you want, just don't hurt me! I hate this job!”

“Smart choice,” he told her, confiscating the gun.

They stopped to raid a supply cupboard just inside the door, and Bigwig passed out gasmasks to everyone before they left the bunker.

They emerged into the foggy outside air. Hyzenthlay shaded her eyes, squinting around nervously. “Which way?!”

“Just follow me!” Bigwig led them into the fog. “Keehar said he'd meet us out by this rocky outcropping. We're two or three days early, so we can only hope that he is too.”

But as they reached the meet-up spot, it became apparent that their luck had run out. The bottom dropped out of his stomach when he realized that neither Keehar nor his plane was anywhere to be seen.

“Damn it all,” he whispered. “No, no, no, he's gotta be around here somewhere- or there has to be a way to let him know we're here-”

“We need to set up some sort of signal,” Vilthuril said. “If we can find something to burn-”

She was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps behind them. They all turned to see the owslafa marching towards them out of the fog, led by the General himself.

Bigwig felt sick to see the look of smug satisfaction on Woundwart's face. “Well, Thlayli,” he said, “I thought there was something suspicious about you. And how convenient that you're giving me proof that these young women are just as guilty as I suspected.”

“We're not going back there,” Bigwig growled, pushing himself ton the front of the group. “You'll have to let us go or kill us right now, because we refuse to be your prisoners any longer!”

“That's good, because I wasn't planning on taking you back to Efrafra,” said Woundwart. “This will be as good an execution field as any.”

Bigwig couldn't believe this was happening. After everything they had done, after all the planning and effort and fear, they were going to die here like none of it even mattered.

He felt Hyzenthlay press her small hand to his back, and he thought his heart would break. “I'm sorry, I failed you,” he whispered to her.

“No. You set us free,” she murmured back. “I can never thank you enough, Thayli.”

Right then, he would willingly have bowed his head under the General's gun if it meant she and her friends walked free. He was a little surprised; he hadn't thought himself capable of such selflessness.

The soldiers raised their guns and there was a clattering of safeties being pulled off. Bigwig closed his eyes.  _ It's better to die free _ , he told himself, even if he didn't believe it.

“Aim,” Woundwart called out, but before he could open his mouth to give the second command, his eyes widened, and he stared at something over Bigwig's head.

The whir of propellers broke through the tense silence on the field, and Bigwig's heart leapt. He turned his head and saw Keehar's plane burst from the fog, swooping low over them to land right in the middle of the Efrafran battalion, sending soldiers scattering left and right.

When the plane came to a halt, Keehar leaned out the cockpit door. “Vhy you so early?” He yelled at Bigwig. “You say two, tree days! You lucky I nearby, I might have missed you!”

“Thank Frith you didn't,” Bigwig yelled back, then turned to Hyzenthlay and the others. “Come on!”

They ran across the rocky ground to the plane. Bigwig wrenched the back door open and boosted Blackavar inside. Hyzenthlay, Thethuthinnang and Nelthilta clambered in after him, and there was just barely room for the four of them to squeeze inside.

Before he could help Vilthuril up, a bullet whizzed past his ear. He ducked and slammed the door, pulling her down with him.

The soldiers were forming back up and heading towards them, fast. General Woundwart looked absolutely furious. “Start the plane!” Bigwig yelled, then rolled underneath it, Vilthuril clinging to him for dear life.

The engines began to roar as he made it to the other side. He pulled the cockpit door open, boosted Vilthuril in, and started to step up when someone grabbed him around the waist. He snarled, fighting off an owslafa soldier who was trying to knife him.

He kicked the man in the groin and managed to shake him off, but by then the propellers had started and the plane was already rolling forward.

Bigwig ran to keep up. Vilthuril was holding the door open for him. “Hurry!” she yelled.

He jumped and managed to grab a hold of the frame, struggling to get a foothold and hoist himself in. Vilthuril grabbed his wrists and tried to pull, but he was far too heavy for her to lift.

His foot caught, and he was finally able to haul himself up- only to feel someone grab his other leg. He kicked furiously, and the man fell off with a grunt just as the plane began to lift.

Bigwig narrowly managed to get inside and shut the door before the plane rose from the gritty earth and started a wide turn. He struggled into his seat, shifting Vilthuril so she was sitting on his lap. “Sorry about the tight accommodations.”

Vilthuril blinked and blushed, her hands splayed out over his chest. “Th-this is fine, I'm good, really.”

Bigwig looked out the window, and saw the owsla dotted on the ground underneath them like little toy soldiers. He couldn't help but laugh to see Woundwart and his officers staring up, dumbfounded, as they took off into the sky.

A few soldiers shot at them but it was easy enough for Keehar to pivot and dodge, and soon enough they were off, disappearing into the mists.

As soon as they were safely on their way, Bigwig sighed and relaxed back into his seat. “Everyone alright?” he asked.

A low groan came from the back, followed by the sounds of retching.

“Frith, Thethu, don't do it on _me_!” Nelthila exclaimed. 

“Oh Frith, oh Frith, oh Frith,” Hyzenthlay whispered. She was staring out the window, her eyes wide and her hands trembling.

Blackavar, squished in between Hyzenthlay and Thethuthinning, was biting his lip, obviously in serious pain, and trying to avert his gaze from the mess Thethu had just made all down the seats and Nelthilta's lap.

“Er.. sorry about that,” Bigwig told them. “Your first time flying can be a bit- overwhelming.”

“I will _get_ you for this,” Nelthilta growled at him.

Vilthuril leaned over and peered briefly out the window. Then she immediately drew back and clung to Bigwig, trembling violently. “I-I don't like this, not one bit!” she squeaked.

Bigwig patted her soothingly on the back and shot Keehar a desperate look.

Keehar shrugged, smiling cheerfully. “I haff feesh in ze back. Anyvone vant feesh?”

Bigwig sighed. This was going to be a  _ long _ ride home.


	21. Home and Family

_Now came the dog days- day after day of hot, still summer, when for hours at a time light seemed the only thing that moved; the sky- sun clouds and breeze- awake above the drowsing downs._

 

Frith was setting as the plane landed outside Watership tower. The Efrafans wobbled out, exhausted, disoriented, and overwhelmed after the long flight. Bigwig helped Blackavar out, letting the slight man lean on him.

Nelthilta leaned against the plane door, taking in loud, huffing breaths as though she was trying not to vomit. Thethuthinang was crouched on the ground, trembling and wide eyed, while Vilthuril, the least affected of the lot, knelt by her side and stroked her hair soothingly.

“Good flying, yah?” Keehar commented cheerfully as he hopped out of the cockpit. “No vorry, you get over it,” he said to Nelthilta, clapping her on the back and making her cough violently.

Hyzenthlay was the last to come out. She blinked hesitantly around at the fog, nervous of the new environment. But when Bigwig caught her eye, she smiled. “We made it.”

“We did.” He smiled back.

Blackavar squirmed out of Bigwig's grip. “I'm alright, I can stand.” He was out of breath and obviously putting on a brave face, but Bigwig let him. After all he'd been through, the man deserved his dignity. “Efrafra won't forget what we did to them. If they ever find us here, they'll come down on us full force.”

“Then we'll meet the bastards head on,” Bigwig said firmly. He was still high on adrenaline; they had just escaped the jaws of death, and he felt like Elahrairah standing on a hoard of stolen carrots.

Blackavar nodded. “If that's the case, then I'll stand with you.”

“Me too,” Hyzenthlay said.

“Sweet Frith, don't give me any more reason to vomit,” Nelthilta growled at them.

Keehar tapped on his shoulder. “Pigvig, listen... You plenty good fellas, and it been good work with you. But... I tink it's time I go, yah?”

“Oh.” Bigwig felt a pang of disappointment; he'd really become attached to Keehar in the past weeks. “Well, then you should go, right? You've done more for us than you ever needed to, Keehar. Thanks for having my back.”

He reached out for a handshake, but Keehar would have none of that, instead pulling him in for a rough bearhug. “You take care, eh Pigvig? Keep dem youngsters on deir toes.” He let go and took a step back. “I come visit again, no worries.”

“I'll look forward to it,” Bigwig said. “You won't say goodbye to the others?”

Keehar shook his head. “Nah. Hate to say goodbye.”

“Oh, so am I just special?” Bigwig smirked.

Keehar scoffed. “You vish, fuzzhead.”

“Seriously, I WILL vomit over here. I'm not joking.”

“Nelthilta, please shut up,” Thethuthinnang grumbled.

Bigwig felt a strange mix of pride and sadness as he watched Keehar's plane take off into the clouds and dwindle quickly from view.

He missed him already; Watership wouldn't feel the same without their resident sky-bird.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Hyzenthlay looking up at him, her expression tired but hopeful. “Let's get everyone indoors.”

Bigwig reached out to take her hand in his. “Let's.”

~

“Seriously, I'm fine! I can walk on my own!” Hazel protested. “I've been in bed all week, haven't I rested enough?”

Silver glared down at him. “Remember how you  _ got _ in this mess, Hazel. You need to learn to be more patient.”

Hazel sighed in frustration. “I know, I know... but how much longer am I going to be laid up?”

“Too long, what with the botch-job Blackberry did on your leg here.” Silver glared down at the offending limb.

“Cut him some slack; he's the best doctor we had on short notice while you were gone,” Hazel said.

“That's really not saying much,” Silver said. “I'm a field medic. I can't- I can hardly do _anything_.” He bowed his head, biting his lip in frustration.

Hazel was shocked. He didn't think he'd seen Silver show  _ any _ vulnerability since they'd left Sandleford.

But on the other hand, he wasn't even as old as Hazel. He probably had all sorts of insecurities that he didn't want to show to the rest of them.

Hesitantly, Hazel reached out to him. He thought about laying a hand on Silver's leg, then thought better of it and just rested it on the bed next to him. “You've done fine so far. Buckthorn owes his life to you, I case you forgot.”

For a moment, Silver's mouth twisted up, looking as though he was going to argue. Then he smiled wryly. “Flattery won't get you out of bed any faster.”

“Oh, darn.”

The door burst open, and Blackberry stumbled into the room. “HE'S BACK!” he yelled.

Hazel sat up. “Bigwig??”

“Yes, Bigwig! And a whole lot of Efrafra refugees!”

Hazel turned up to Silver with the a hopeful look.

“Are you joking?” Silver asked. “After all that, you think I'm just going to let you out of bed _now_?”

“But I need to meet them as chief! It wouldn't make a good impression for them to meet me _in bed_.”

Silver heaved a sigh. “Alright,  _ fine _ , but I am  _ literally _ carrying you up and down the stairs- unless you think that won't be impressive enough, your majesty.”

Hazel shook his head. “Nope, that'll be just fine.”

~

He may not have looked dignified, but Hazel didn't even care that Silver was carrying him into the dinner hall in a makeshift bridal hold, because he was just so excited to see his his friend alive and well.

Bigwig was standing in the middle of the hall, surrounded by both Watership residents and the Efrafran refugees. “Been making friends, have you?” Hazel asked, just loud enough to carry over the excited din of the crowd.

“Hazel!” Bigwig turned to him, beaming. “Frith, am I glad to see you.”

“It's mutual- Silver, you can put me down now, I need to hug him.”

“Hmph.” Silver carefully placed him on his feet.

He almost lost his balance, then stumbled forward to embrace his friend. “Thank you for coming back,” he murmured.

“You have no idea how good it feels to be home.” Bigwig's deep voice thrummed through his chest and vibrated against Hazel's ear.

Their tender moment was interrupted by a loud thud. They broke apart, and Hazel saw that one of Bigwig's companions, a tall man with dark skin, had fallen to his knees, breathing heavily.

“Frith, Blackavar, I'm sorry.” Bigwig leaned over to help him up. “I forgot, you need to get patched up before you bleed to death on the kitchen floor.”

“M'perfectly fine,” Blackavar slurred, trying to hold himself upright when he looked about ready to collapse.

“Hush, you've done enough,” Bigwig said gently.

“Great, he can replace me,” Hazel said. “We wouldn't want to leave poor Silver bereft of patients, would we?”

“Heavens, no,” Silver said, deadpan. “And you're _still_ not getting out of bed-rest.”

“Damn it!” Hazel looked around at Bigwig's new friends; in addition to Blackavar there were four women, all with the same look of exhaustion and uncertainty. “I'm sorry, we haven't shown our best hospitality. I'm sure you are all in need of food and rest; please, take whatever you need. We'll help you settle in and get comfortable.”

A flurry of tired nods and a chorus of soft thanks greeted this statement. Blackberry, Pipkin and Speedwell ushered the group back towards where they could find food. Before he joined then, Bigwig nodded towards Hazel. “There's something extremely important I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” Hazel asked, alarmed.

“ _Never make me do that again_.”

Hazel stifled a laugh. “Good to have you home, buddy.”

He was suddenly grabbed from behind “No more excuses; back to bed with you,” Silver said, and hauled him back up into his arms.

Hazel was proud of himself for hardly pouting at  _ all _ as he was taken back to the monotony of enforced bed-rest.

~

Efrafra had been the closest to hell Bigwig had ever lived- the Bloody Temple was more like purgatory in comparison- but it had given Bigwig two very important things. One, it had given him a greater appreciation of how good his life was here at Watership.

And two, it had given him Hyzenthlay.

Hyzenthlay was just the sort of person that  _ fascinated _ Bigwig. She was smart, and kind, and also passionate and driven. She was  strong, but also gentle and vulnerable.

He liked her a lot.

Her  _ friends _ , on the other hand... were a bit of a mixed bag.

He liked Blackavar. The man was sensible and straightforward, with a mind for strategy and a brave heart. However, after what happened to him at Efrafra he was  also , understandably, rather withdrawn. Whenever they talked, he tended to go back and forth from being uncannily quiet and obedient, to twitchy and argumentative.

Bigwig thought it was best they take it slow, but he intended to try and get to know Blackavar as he settled in more. Besides wanting to make friends, he knew they could use a keen strategist like him as an adviser for the owsla.

Thethuthinnang was... a bit much. He was certainly happy to see her free to express herself, but he couldn't listen to her carry on about science and mathematics for more than a few minutes without feeling nauseous. She was better suited to someone like Blackberry who could understand, appreciate and reciprocate her technobabble.

Vilthuril had an oddly calming presence. She was cheerful and calm and always seemed involved in helping other people out. Bigwig liked her, though they didn't spend much time together.

Nelthilta was the only one he had any real trouble with. If he had hoped coming to Watership would mellow her out at all, he was immediately proved wrong. She was just as angry and asocial  as she had been when he met her in Efrafra. If anything, she seemed even  _ more _ frustrated now that she didn't have any acceptable outlets for her emotions

She was moody, sarcastic, and downright unpleasant. Her fiery heart, which had seemed so brave in Efrafra, was now more of a nuisance than anything in a place where Bigwig actually  _ wanted  _ to keep order.

Hazel had suggested that she join owsla training, thinking it might help her like it had helped Hawkbit. To Bigwig's eternal gratitude, she refused. She still hadn't found a proper job, bouncing back and forth like a moldy apple no one wanted to eat but everyone felt too guilty to throw away.

But it was worth handling Nelthilta if he got to spend time with Hyzenthlay. They just  _ worked _ together, and Bigwig enjoyed having a close relationship with someone who wasn't either under him in the owsla or part of Hazel's council.  He had even started helping out with chores around the tower just so they could hang out as they worked.

Presently, they were working in the kitchen together. She laughed as he put two kale leaves over his head like a couple of bunny ears, and he thrilled at the unexpected sound.

“I don't think I've heard you laugh before,” he said, putting the kale down and actually chopping it like he was supposed to.

She looked a little surprised at that. “I... I honestly can't remember the last time I  _ did _ laugh like that.” Her brow furrowed, and now she seemed disturbed. 

He brushed a strand of silvery hair back from her face. “That's understandable. There wasn't a lot of room for laughter in Efrafra, was there?”

His words seemed to bring her back to herself. “I- yes. There... wasn't, really.”

“I... I understand that it might- it might take a while for you to realize, but you're safe here,” Bigwig said, his words slow and hesitant. He wasn't used to speaking so carefully. “It's ok to be happy- and it's ok to be upset. You don't have to put on a brave face anymore.”

“Sometimes, that's all I know how to do,” she said quietly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, then I suppose that's ok too. I just... I wanted you to know, you can talk to me, alright? You don't have to be careful with me. I won't be upset by your emotions.”

She smiled and leaned into him slightly. “Thank you. I'll try and remember that when things get...  _ bad _ .”

It was in that quiet, vulnerable moment of intimacy between them, that Nelthilta threw the door open and came storming in.

They both jumped apart and stared at her, like scared kids who'd been caught doing something they shouldn't- which was ridiculous, because they were  _ adults _ and had n't been doing  _ anything. _

Nelthilta's eyes widened in shock, and then a sneer spread across her face. Bigwig's heart dropped before she even opened her mouth. “I should have known you two would hook up.” She said, her voice filled with disgust. “You always did have a think for the big, empty-headed ones, old woman.”

Bigwig  clanched his fists and breathed through his nose. “Don't you have something useful to do?”

Nelthilta shrugged. “You two seem to have plenty of free time.”

Hyzenthlay said nothing in response. She kept staring straight ahead, and Bigwig might have thought she hadn't even heard Nelthilta's comment if it weren't for the tense angle of her jaw.

Nelthilta's ugly smile widened, and she drifted off, apparently content with the damage she'd done.

They stood there in silence for a while. Bigwig was equal parts angry and worried; he didn't know what to say, how to comfort her when Nelthilta's words had obviously hurt her.

“Cute kid,” he finally said. “Seriously, _what_ is her problem?”

Hyzenthlay sighed. She sat down on the nearest bench, and he followed her, giving her his attention.“I don't tell this to many people, but... she's my daughter.”

Bigwig put his hands over his mouth. “Frith. I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean-”

She shook her head. “No, I understand, she's a bit..  _ much _ .”

Bigwig sat down next to her. As the shock wore off, it started to make sense; how Hyzenthlay could be so fiercely protective over someone who so clearly wanted nothing to do with her. “Who else knows?”

“Thethu knows. I think Vilthuril may have guessed.”

“I guess I just can't understand... how she could hate you so much.” Bigwig admitted. “I… I lost my parents early. I'd do anything to have my mom back; I can't understand how she could be so… _ungrateful.”_

“It doesn't work that way,” Hyzenthlay said. “I was just so desperate to keep her safe. Efrafra isn't the best place to raise children.” She gave a small, mirthless smile.

“I can see that,” Bigwig said. He reached out rubbed a hand gently across her back.

“I... was too young to really take care of her. I was scared, and so I let the older women in my section raise her. By the time I finally tried to connect with her, when she was a little older… we had already drifted so far apart.” Hyzenthlay looked wistful. “Every time I tried to talk to her, we just ended up fighting.

“She couldn't forgive me for abandoning her. And honestly… I couldn't forgive myself either.” She closed her eyes. “That's why I became so obsessed with escaping. I felt that getting her out of _that place_ was the only way I could possibly atone.

“Now, I just have to pray she can find her happiness here,” she said. “Even if she hates me, I would die to see Nelthilta safe and happy. I can't ask for anything more than that.”

They sat together in silence for some time, and Bigwig thought about what she'd said. He tried to put himself in her shoes, tried to think of being trapped alone in Efrafra, taking care of a kid when you were hardly old enough to take care of yourself.

_ Hazel would understand,  _ Bigwig thought suddenly. Frith knew his love and protectiveness over Fiver bordered on the obsessive sometimes.  _ How would he feel, if Fiver started blaming him for everything wrong in his life? _

In the end, though, it didn't really matter if he understood or not; it was obvious that Nelthilta meant the world to Hyzenthlay.

He gently put a hand on her shoulder. “I… can't pretend to truly understand. But- She'll be safe here. And happy. I'll make sure of it.”

Hyzenthlay looked up at him, and this time her smile was sincere- if a bit tired. “Thank you, Bigwig.” She reached up to gently trace her fingers over his big, calloused hand. “For everything.”

“Thank _you_ ,” he replied, and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close and pressing his cheek against her hair.


	22. The Battle of Watership

_Hazel looked about him.”Anyone who wants to go can go,” he said. “I shan't. We made this warren ourselves and Frith only knows what we've been through on account of it. I'm not going to leave it now.”_

“ _Neither am I,” said Bigwig. “If I'm for the Black Rabbit, there's one or two from Efrafra will come with me.”_

 

It was a quiet, pleasant afternoon some weeks later when everything went wrong.

Holly and Hazel were upstairs in one of the meeting rooms discussing plans for a new garden, when Pipkin burst through the door, wild-eyed and breathing hard.

“Hazel, come quick!” he said.. “Bigwig's patrol just got back, and I think- I don't know what they found, but it's bad news.”

Hazel exchanged a grim look with Holly. “Alright. Let's go.”

They followed him downstairs to find Bigwig, Hakwbit and Buckthorn tearing up the kitchen fixtures and propping heavy furniture up against the doors that led to the utility entrance.

“Block the doors!” Bigwig shouted. “Pile up anything you can find, we have to keep them out of the tower!”

“Bigwig, what's happening?” Hazel ran forward to help him push a heavy table into place.

“We met a scouting party, out on patrol,” Hawkbit panted. “They attacked us. Bigwig knocked one of them down, I think he killed him- but the rest of them got away.”

“They were from Efrafra,” Bigwig said, heaving the table into place. “I recognized the uniforms.”

Hazel's heart sank. He'd thought there would be time, before Efrafra found them and launched an attack; he'd thought there would be months to relax and recuperate and prepare.

He'd been a fool. They should have been preparing from the day Bigwig came back.

Time sped up as the got ready for the attack. Hazel hauled barricade material and war supplies and medical supplies until his arms were sore and his back ached.

Everyone was stressed and frightened. The halls echoed with people barking orders and asking fearful questions and arguing with each other over the best course of action. Hazel tried to stay on top of things and keep everyone calm, but it was difficult to maintain in such a tense atmosphere.

Pipkin stayed near Hazel as they worked, and every time they passed each other, Pipkin would reach out and brush his hand across Hazel's arm or back. His face was set in hard lines, staying brave even as he sought comfort from his mate.

Hazel's heart ached. He'd wanted to make a safe home here; safe for his brother, his friends, now his lover. What had become of that dream?

A horribly selfish part of him wished they had never become involved with Efrafra at all, and had just left them to their bombs and their misery.  _ At least  _ _ we _ _ had some forewarning of our doom, _ he thought dully.

As Hazel was helping Dandelion and Blackberry move some chairs, there was a sudden explosion from beyond the doors that rocked through the building, shivering plaster from the ceiling and causing everyone to stumble about and cling to each other.

Hazel's heart pounded in his ears.  _ It's started, it's started, oh god I'm not ready I'm not  _ ready _ - _

“Citizens of Watership!” A voice echoed dimly through the doors. “General Woundwart requests an audience with your chief, to discuss the terms of your surrender!”

“Oh, they say that _after_ they set off explosives on our doorstep?” Blackberry hissed.

“It's just an excuse to get us to open our doors,” Bigwig said.

Hazel took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. He wasn't a frightened child, no matter how tempting it was to go find somewhere to curl up and hide.

He was the chief. This was his duty.

“Open up one of the side doors,” He said, as bravely as he could muster. “I'll try to negotiate with them.”

“Hazel, no!” Dandelion hissed. “It's too dangerous!”

“I don't want anymore bloodshed,” Hazel said firmly. “If there's any chance on earth or Inle that this man can be talked around, then we have to try. Besides, if he wants to give us his terms for our surrender, he can't kill me, right?”

Dandelion started to protest, with Blackberry and Bigwig not far behind him. But then Fiver spoke up. “It's alright. Hazel will come back.”

Bigwig paused, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Well... ok then. But just- don't do anything stupid out there, will you?”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Hazel said cheerfully. “I'll be back in just a few minutes, I promise.”

~

When a young man came up the tunnel, stumbling over debris from the recent explosion, Campion's spirits fell. With a heavy heart, he began following the boy with the bar r el of his gun. He didn't like to hurt civilians. 

Campion had been an owslafa officer at Efrafra for over a decade, and in that time, he couldn't pretend he hadn't had... doubts.

General Woundwart was a ruthless man, that was pure fact. But he wasn't needlessly cruel. He desired absolute control, and absolute order, and was willing to destroy anything in his path to achieve those goals. Campion couldn't deny that the cost of Woundwart's reign was high.

But Campion had grown up in a world where there  _ was _ no order. Gangs and weapons dealers controlled the bunkers to the west. Whole families starved or were killed for the food rations they squirreled away. Disease ran rampant, and if a child was fortunate enough to live to adulthood, they either killed for a living or died trying. 

Campion had watched his own family die, his sibling starving slowly, his mother killed in a raid, his father wasting away under a fever, forcing Campion to leave before he could catch it. He would have done anything to save them from that hell.

So when General Woundwart arrived and massacred the warlords of the east, Campion saw not just a bigger, stronger warlord; he saw an avenging god who had risen to cleanse the world of it's sin.

And he was spared. After the survivors were rounded up and brought back to Efrafra, he quickly rose through the ranks until he became one of General Woundwart's most trusted officers.

He still had his doubts. But he would never betray General Woundwart, even if it meant killing an innocent man who had done nothing wrong.

“State your intent!” he barked at the young man as he approached.

The man put his hands up. “I am unarmed,” he said. “I have come to negotiate terms of peace with General Woundwart.”

“This is who your chief sends out as ambassador?” General Woundwart asked derisively. “Pathetic.”

A flicker of something, surprise or fear, flashed over the young man's face.

“I can tell you now, there will be no negotiation.” The General continued. “I will tell you my demands, and you will meet them or prepare to be conquered.”

“Surely we can come to some sort of agreement?” The young man said. His voice was even and smooth, and Campion found himself admiring his courage despite himself. “We mean you no harm; all we want is to be left in peace. We will give you with the same courtesy- or perhaps we could eve work together.”

“You lost your chance to 'cooperate' when your chief Thayli came in and sabotaged our systems,” Woundwart growled. “That was a mistake that you are going to pay for dearly.”

“You were threatening innocent lives,” the young man said simply. “We couldn't condone your actions.”

Campion tried to swallow the guilt that rose in him like bile. Woundwart had promised he would only use The Weapon if it was absolutely necessary to gain control, that he would never fire except as a last resort.

And then he'd gone and fired it at a neutral bunker for _target practice_. When Campion heard what he'd done, his rage had consumed him to the point where he considered killing the general with his own hands.

Something had held him back. He still didn't know what- was it loyalty? Or fear? Or had he simply become too empty inside to care that he was following the orders of a mass-murderer?

He was distracted from such thoughts by The General's stern voice. “Enough of this; I will give you my terms. You may have weakened us in one area, but we still have plenty of weapons at our disposal. You are out-gunned and outnumbered; if you try to fight, you will fall. But I am not without mercy. If you surrender, then this place will be put under Efrafan rule, and your people will not be harmed. If, on the other hand, you fail to comply with our demands, we'll tear this building apart, and kill everyone inside it. You have two hours to discuss my terms.”

The young man bowed his head. “We can't accept those terms.”

“You _will_ accept them, or you will be destroyed.” The General's voice brokered no discussion. “Tell your chief to surrender. There is no other option for you.”

“Peace and freedom is all we ask,” the young man said once more. “Can't you understand? Isn't peace what you want for your own bunker, your own people?”

“There will be no peace until there is order,” General Woundwart growled. “Nothing will be safe until it is all under my control. Now be gone; I am losing patience with you.”

The young man nodded. “I'm sorry it has to be this way. I would have liked to see peace between us some day.” Then he turned and began to walk away.

Campion couldn't help but be impressed by how calm he was. There weren't many people who could stand their ground before the General.

As soon as the young man was out of earshot, the General turned to him. “Tell the men we attack in one hour. We don't have time to wait while these fools prepare themselves."

Campion opened his mouth just briefly- but he closed it before he could even think of what he might say. Instead, he nodded.

He would never say so; he was in too deep, and owed too much to General Woundwart to betray him now, but...

But still, as he watched the young man walk away, he couldn't help but wonder if they were doing the right thing.

~

Hazel returned to Watership with a heavy heart.

They were dead. No matter how clever they were, no matter how bravely they fought- there was no way they could win against Efrafra.

He couldn't do this. This wasn't what he became chief for; to see the people he loved die, or become slaves to a ruthless tyrant.

All the courage he had gained in their travels, all they had overcome, the friendships they had formed- it was all pointless now.

How was he supposed to be brave when he knew there was no chance?

But he still had to try. If all he could do was go back to Watership and tell them they were going to be alright... then that was what he had to do.

He stopped before the steel doors of the bunker, and closed his eyes. Silently, he tried to make peace with their fate.

Then he went inside.

Everyone was rushing back and forth. The owlsa was lined up, readying their guns as Bigwig gave them orders. Hazel died a little inside to see Pipkin standing with them, his face serious, ready to lay down his life for his home.

Was it really worth it? Was it really better to go down fighting, or... should they surrender? Could he live with himself if he saw his people enslaved?

Could he live with himself if he had to watch them die?

Before he could even begin to make a decision, a sharp cry rang out through the room. Hazel whipped his head around to see who had caused the noise, and his heart stopped when he realized it was Fiver.

His brother was laying on the floor, thrashing and trembling, his eyes rolling and his mouth opening and closing spasmodically.

“Fiver, what's wrong?” Hazel demanded, rushing forward to crouch at his side. “Oh god, he's never been this bad before. Silver, help!”

Silver came to his side and knelt down by Fiver. “I think he's having a seizure. Don't move him! You could hurt him.”

“Hey, shhh,” Hazel murmured, trying to calm Fiver down. “Can you hear me?”

A terrible,  _ inhuman _ scream rose up from his lips. Hazel had to resist the urge to clap his hands over his ears to block the horrifying noise out.

“What the hell?” Bigwig muttered.

Suddenly, Fiver sat bolt upright, almost knocking heads with Hazel. His eyes rolled  back into his head and he began to speak, his voice high and quavering. “ _ The chief must go alone. The chief must go alone. The chief must go alone.” _

“Oh my god will someone _please_ shut him up!” Nelthilta snarled from somewhere across the room.

All of a sudden, Hazel's anxiety left him. Instead of worrying over his brother, he was listening to the word that tumbled out of his mouth, a steady stream that was almost... hypnotic...

“ _There's some kind of elil loose in the tunnels_ ”, Fiver whispered.

_ Someone said that before _ , Hazel thought.  _ Who said that? _

The phrase echoed through his mind; he chased the sound and shape of it down a long, dark tunnel, his feet splashing through water and his arms outstretched, reaching-

He heard the rattle of claws on a steel floor, the harsh, guttural growl of some great beast. Something huge ran past him, over him,  _ through _ him, until there was no room left for him to breathe-

“Hazel! _Hazel_! Snap out of it!”

All at once, he came back to himself. He was still sitting in the middle of the room. At his side, Fiver had laid back down and gone still.

Bigwig had his hands on Hazel's shoulders, steadying him. “You ok there?”

“I have to go,” Hazel said. “I have to go back down-”

“Go where? Back where?” Bigwig scowled at him. “Hazel, you're not making any sense.”

He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. “I have to go down to Nuthanger.”

“Bullshit!” Bigwig gave him a firm shake. “Hazel, we need you _here_ , you're our chief! You can't go running off, not now!”

Hazel grabbed onto his arms. “Bigwig- we have two hours to surrender before Woundwart attacks. If we don't surrender- “

“We won't,” Bigwig interjected determinedly, but Hazel ignored him.

“-then I have a plan that might just save us all. You have to trust me, I- I can't explain it, but I know this is our only chance.”

Bigwig was already shaking his head. “No. Everyone here looks to you; they need their chief, Hazel.”

Hazel gave a small smile. “Well, they  _ have _ their chief, don't they?” 

He laid his hand gently on Bigwig's chest, and his eyes widened. “No- I couldn't-”

“You can. You _have_ to,” Hazel said firmly. “If I don't come back-”

“Don't you even fucking _dare-_ ” Bigwig started, but Hazel cut him off.

“-If I don't come back, you're in charge. I know I can trust you with Watership.” Looking up into Bigwig's eyes, tight and vulnerable, Hazel sighed. “If you have ever trusted me before, then trust me now. Please.”

Bigwig stared down at him for a long moment. Then finally, he bowed his head. “... You'd _better_ come back, you hear?.”

He nodded, biting his lip to keep emotion for overwhelming him. Then he turned and asked the room at large, “Who are the best two runners?”

Dandelion immediately put up his hand. After a moment, Hyzenthlay followed suit.

“Come with me; I have a special assignment for you. Everyone else, you're under Bigwig's orders until I return.”

As the three of them left, sneaking out the same  door Hazel had left to see General Woundwart, he could hear Bigwig calling orders  and rallying everyone around .  _ He'll make a good chief. Probably a better one than me. _

“So, what are we going to do?” Hyzenthlay asked.

“Something really stupid and dangerous,” Hazel replied.

“So like always, then,” Dandelion said wryly.

Hazel sighed. “Yes, unfortunately.”


	23. The Chief Must Go Alone

“ _Oh Hazel! I was dreaming. It was dreadful. (…) I found you, but you said “The Chief Rabbit must go alone,” and you floated away down a dark tunnel of water._

 

Hazel explained his plan to Dandelion and Hyzenthlay as they walked down the tunnel towards Nuthanger. It killed him to walk instead of run, but they needed to save their strength for the way home, or the plan wouldn't work.

Even though his friends were by his side, he felt strangely lonesome. It felt like time was pulling at him, tugging him slowly but steadily away from everything he loved until he was running alone.

_ Is this what Fiver feels like all the time? _ he wondered.

When they reached the halfway point, he stopped. “Dandelion, you should stage yourself here. One of you would wear out before you ran all the way back to Watership; if the two of you switch off halfway through, you should be able to make it.”

“So all I need to do is wait here until Hyzenthlay baits the dog to me?” Dandelion asked.

Hazel nodded. “Will you be alright? I feel bad, leaving you here on your own.”

“I'll be fine. The Efrafran's are focused on Watership right now, they won't come this far out.” Dandelion assured him. Then he flashed a dangerous grin. “If we survive this, friends, it's going to be the greatest story ever told.”

“And you'll be the one to tell it,” Hazel said.

His voice was cheerful, but he couldn't stay calm as they left Dandelion behind. Anxiety built in his chest until he could hardly breathe; he needed a distraction.

He took the opportunity to ask Hyzenthlay a few questions that had been nagging at him for some time. “You... you have the sight, don't you?” Hazel asked. “Like my brother.”

“And like _you_ ,” Hyzenthlay said.

For a moment, Hazel was surprised, but  th inking about it, he had no reason to be. “I- I guess. I just wanted to ask.. what  _ is _ it? Because it's not really seeing the future, is it? It's more like... I don't know, it's hard to describe.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “It's... it's like there are two worlds. There's the physical world, the one our bodies are in now as we talk and move and breathe and  _ live _ . And then there's a world that's sort of...  _ behind _ it. The world of  possibility , of intention, of- of  _ spirit _ .”

“Is it... the world of death?” Hazel asked. “I mean, is it where our spirits go to when we die?”

“I don't know. Perhaps it's the world between life and death,” Hyzenthlay said. “People like your brother and I, we live with one foot in each world. Sometimes I think, if I'm not careful, I'll wander too far into that other world, and I won't ever come back.”

Hazel shivered. Her words reminded him of Cowslip's warren and that poor wretched poet, Silverweed. “I think I know someone who did that,” he said quietly. “It frightens me. Maybe this power will help me save Watership, but still... I wish I had nothing to do with it.”

“Well, you have much less of it, if that's any comfort. You're too _present_ to pass over; the most you seem able to do is catch glimpses through the fabric into that other world.”

Hazel looked away pensively. “... If I could leave this world, I could bring back the Black Rabbit's army to destroy Efrafra, like Elahrairah did in that one story.”

“Even if you could do such a thing, I don't know if you would ever be able to return from the land of death,” Hyzenthlay said.

“I would take that risk,” Hazel said. “For my people. My _friends_.”

“There isn't a day goes by when a mother does not offer her life for her children,” Hyzenthlay said. “Or an honest captain of owsla his life for his chief's. But there is no bargain. What is is what must be.”

Hazel closed his eyes. “... you're right.”

“But we have the sight for a reason,” Hyzenthlay said, her voice suddenly fierce. She put a hand on his shoulder. “We can see the possibilities in the future; and we make the choices that shape it. And your choice may just save the life of your people- your _friends_ \- tonight.”

He gripped her hand tightly, suddenly fighting back tears. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Let's keep going,” she said.

By the time they reached Nuthanger, they were in luck; there was only a single guard on duty, and he was slumped against the doorway, taking a mid-shift nap. The dog was asleep on the end of it's chain, and the picture they made might have been cute if the man didn't have a rifle resting next to him and the animal wasn't roughly the size of a tank.

“I'll undo it's chain,” Hazel whispered. “Be ready to run as soon as it wakes up.”

Hyzenthlay nodded. “May Frith be with you,” she told him.

“And may Elahrairah and his every ounce of speed and cleverness run with _you_ ,” he replied. “Good luck.”

They parted ways, and Hazel crept up to the slumbering elil. It was curled up under a flimsy shelter made of sheet metal, and its chain was fastened to the wall.

Gathering his courage, he approached the shelter. It was hard to climb; the metal was slick under his sweating hands, and he cut himself a few times as he clambered onto the roof as quietly as he could. He winced, hoping he wasn't going to survive this ordeal only to end up with lockjaw.

He grabbed the chain in one hand and fumbled in his pocket for the pliers he'd stashed there with the other. As he tried to line them up to the chain, he realized his hands were shaking.

_ Focus _ , he thought, squeezing his eyes shut.  _ You can't do this if you're afraid. _

His hands steadied. He chose a link in the chain that was almost rusted through, and clamped the pliers around it, tugging and twisting.

It was more difficult than he'd thought; the steel was thick and refused to budge under his hands. He started to get worried after a good ten minutes of pulling yielded only an inch or two of movement in the chain.

_I'm an idiot; I should have brought a pickaxe. Or a stick of dynamite. Or-_

His foot slipped off where it was braced, and he started sliding down the sheet metal. He frantically grabbed for a handhold, and scrambled back into place, nauseous with fear. His knees made an enormous racket as he scrambled back up, and he winced, glancing down at the guard.

The man snorted and turned, but didn't wake. Hazel sighed in relief.

From beneath him, there was a low growl .

The dog lunged to its feet and ran out to the end of its lead, barking frantically at Hyzenthlay. The loosened chain snapped in two, the end lashing sharply across Hazel's face.

Hyzenthlay ran, and the dog bolted after her, disappearing down the tunnel with a clatter of claws. Hazel was shaken from his perch atop the dog's flimsy shelter, falling painfully to the ground.

Groaning quietly, he got to his knees and stared out after them. _ Please Frith, let Hyzenthlay and Dandelion be fast enough _ , he thought, then breathed out, and all the tension and anxiety left  him as he slumped to the ground, exhausted and relieved.

It was done. He had played his part, and all he could do now was pray to Frith and Elahrairah and whatever else was listening that his people could be saved.

Just then, something heavy came down on his back, and he choked on a gasp as he was pushed down into the gravel.

“Well well well, look who came back,” a harsh, amused voice sounded above him. “Thought you'd steal more of our _property_ , huh?”

Hazel tried to crawl away, but the pressure on his back increased, and when he tried to move his left leg a bolt of pain shot through it.

“Can you run?” The voice taunted him. “I think not.”

Hazel fainted.

~

It didn't take long before the Efrafran owslafa broke down the doors. Bigwig could hear the crash of exploding metal as they blasted their way through.

He was crouched under a makeshift cover of boards and dirt. His 'troops' were positioned behind him, in a narrow corridor that ended in a hastily-assembled blockade.

The plan had naturally been Blackberry's idea; to wait for Woundwart's soldiers to come for them, with Bigwig lying in wait for a surprise attack. The element of surprise might not give them _much_ of an advantage, but any advantage they had could turn the tide of the fight.

At least, that was the hope they were clinging to.

He could hear the others whispering behind him. Pipkin's voice stood out, high-pitched and scared. He had insisted to be put near the front, and would probably have lobbied for throwing himself in first as cannon fodder if Bigwig hadn't put his foot down.

In the end, it wasn't just the owsla who had joined them in defending the tower.

Clover had immediately volunteered; “To protect my brother,” she'd said simply, her voice shaking but her hands steady on the gun Bigwig handed her.

Blackavar and Nelthilta wanted to fight back against the Efrafran's who had brought them so much pain and humiliation. Strawberry wanted to fight by Buckthorn's side. Even Holly wanted to make one last stand, and of course Bluebell had come to stand with him.

Silver wasn't with them; he and Blackberry were trying to find a way out past the Efrafran sentinels. Little Acorn, Clover's brother Laurel, sweet Vilthuril and clever Thethu' had gone with them- Bigwig hoped that even if he and his entire troop died, they could at least die protecting them.

He also hoped that, even if he was leading these brave men and women to their deaths, he was going to give them their best chance for survival by being the first one out and fighting until he was cut down.

An explosion rocked through the ground, and the far wall burst open in a shower of concrete chunks. Woundwart stepped out through the dust, flanked by his guards. He ed like some cruel, avenging god.

“I know you're in here,” the General said. “Cowards. If you had any dignity you would come out and face us head-on.”

_ If I had any dignity I would be long dead _ , Bigwig thought. He waited for the right moment, watching from between the crack of his makeshift cover as Woundwart slowly approached. 

“If you lay down your arms and surrender, we can end this day without bloodshed,” Woundwart said, his voice low and steady. “But if you insist upon trying to rebel, then I will not hesitate to strike you down with all-”

Before he could finish, Bigwig surged up, breaking through his cover and slashing at Woundwart's throat with his sword.

Woundwrt barely managed to block him. All around the room, guns cocked as the two leaders struggled with each other.

“Thlayli,” Woundwart growled. “I knew you would be here. There's no 'white bird' to save you now!”

Bigwig made no reply. They broke apart and half-circled each other, watching and waiting for who would be the first to make a move.

Woundwart pushed first, slamming into Bigwig with a force beyond his size and age. They clashed on close ground again, snarling and spitting at each other as sparks flew from their blades.

Bigwig felt a fierce sense of exhilaration; this was working out just like he'd planned. Because of the bottleneck, the Efrafrans couldn't come forward without getting Bigwig out of the way first, and it was too close for them to shoot him without risking the life of their general.

If Woundwart wanted Bigwig dead, he'd have to to the job himself.

“Very clever, Thlayli,” Woundwart gritted out from between his teeth. “I have to say, you're an excellent chief.”

“I'm _not_ a chief,” Bigwig snarled.

Woundwart's eyes widened, the news actually throwing him off-balance him for a moment. Bigwig managed to push him backwards a few inches before he regained composure.  “Well, you'd make a good one,” he said, grinning- or at least baring his teeth. “It's such a pity that I have to kill you.”

“With all due respect,” Bigwig growled, “Eat shit, sir.”

Woundwart brought his sword down hard. Bigwig barely managed to block the blow, sidling back out of range and raising his blade, anticipating the next attack.

At that moment, there was an ear-splitting scream from outside. Bigwig flinched but held his ground, knowing such a thing wouldn't distract the General.

What _did_ distract him was a man flying through the hole  the Efrafrans had blown in the wall and landing on the cement floor with a horrific crunch. 

The screams multiplied, and outside, soldiers scattered every which way. A massive shape loped into view, teeth gnashing at the fleeing Efrafrans and eyes blazing in the dark.

Bigwig stared in shock and horror as the dog turned it's gaze inside, and moved on the rank of soldiers guarding the General. They backed up, obviously terrified, raising their weapons towards the animal.

It shoved it's head through the hole in the wall, and the building trembled. Gunshots peppered the air, terrible jaws snapped closed, and a man was dragged screaming from the ranks, shaken violently and tossed carelessly aside.

That was it- the soldiers abandoned their posts, scattering in every direction.

“What are you _doing_?” General Woundwart snarled. “Stand your ground! _DOGS AREN'T DANGEROUS!_ ”

Bigwig watched in shock as  the general turned and ran towards the monster, throwing himself at it with a snarl. 

He didn't get to see what happened next, as the roof gave another ominous tremble and he covered his head with his arms in instinctive terror.

A terrible chorus of yelping and snarling and screaming racketed in his ears. Someone clung to him as he cowered, and he allowed it, trying to block out all sound and sight from his mind, as if he could protect himself by just not knowing the danger was there.

Eventually, the noises faded away. The tower stopped shuddering like it was going to come tumbling down, and Bigwig cautiously raised his head.

The first thing he noticed was that the person clinging to his arm was one of the Efrafran soldiers. “Geroff,” he growled, and the man scrambled backwards with a squeak of fear.

He looked around. Rubble was strewn about, and dust hung in the air, glittering in the dim glow from the overhead lights.

All around him, people began to stir. He wanted to take a headcount and make sure his troops were ok, but first, he needed to check outside quickly, to see if he could find any trace of where Woundwart and the dog had gone.

He got to his feet and walked shakily out, past the ruins of the utility entrance and out into the tunnel. Massive footprints littered the packed earth outside, and corpses lined the way. Bigwig didn't look too closely at any of them, terrified he might recognize a face.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled him, and he spun, hand going automatically to his pistol.

A lone figure was walking up through the tunnel; Bigwig was delighted to see that it was Dandelion.

“Oh Bigwig, thank Frith you're alright,” he gasped, stumbling forward to clasp hands with him. “That awful thing is far too fast; I was sure I would get eaten before we even reached the battlefield.”

It took Bigwig a couple seconds to understand what he meant. “Wait-  _ you _ led the dog here?”

Dandelion nodded, breathless and beaming. “That was Hazel's plan! He set it loose, Hyzenthlay ran it to me, and then I led it back here.”

“So, wait- where _are_ they, now?”

Dandelion's face fell slightly. “I- I don't know. I'm sure they're fine, I'm sure they're just... back at Nuthanger...”

Bigwig had a sudden, vivid recollection of Hazel putting his hands on Bigwig's arms and telling him he was in charge if Hazel didn't come back.

He tried to shake off the sudden feeling of despair, telling himself it was no use being superstitious. “Good job,” he said, clapping Dandelion on the back. “Now, come help me round everybody up; we can't let our guard down now, who knows if that mangy, fleabitten creature will come back. The dog might, too.”

Dandelion laughed, and they walked back to Watership together. But despite the sudden turn of the battle, Bigwig couldn't quite get rid of the dread pooling in his stomach.

Sure, they'd won.

But what had they  _ lost _ ?


	24. Aftermath

_To come to the end of a time of anxiety and fear! To feel the cloud that hung over us lift and disperse- the cloud that dulled the heart and made happiness no more than a memory! This at least is one joy that must have been known by every living creature._

 

When Hazel awoke to find himself lying on his back, a dull pain throbbing up from his left leg, he groaned. “This is the second time in as many months that I've been mortally wounded. I'm starting to think I may be cursed,” he grumbled.

He heard an unfamiliar laugh and froze, his heart in his mouth.

“Relax.” a soothing voice reached his ears. “You're safe.”

“Where am I?” he demanded.

“The back room of Club Nuthanger.” He turned his head to see an older woman with a kind smile approach him. “And before you ask, your leg is broken. I've set it and it will heal with time and rest, but I'm afraid you will probably deal with pain and stiffness in the limb for the rest of your life.”

“At this point, I'm just thankful to be alive,” Hazel said earnestly. “Who _are_ you?”

“I'm Doctor Lucy,” she said. “I'm a barkeep, and the club's medic.”

“My name is Hazel,” he replied.

“You're from Watership, aren't you?”

He started. “H-how did you know?”

“You kept mumbling about it in your sleep.”

Hazel felt himself go hot with embarrassment. “Ah.”

“Now what _I_ want to know,” Lucy said, as she began bustling around the room, preparing some kind of drink, “Is what you were doing here last night, stirring up trouble and letting our dog loose. That guard was very angry when I took you away from him; I had to bribe him with six months of my pay before he agreed not to tell the manager, _and_ I covered for him loosing the dog. I'm lucky they 're so desperate for a medic that they can't afford to throw me out.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any inconvenience.” Hazel rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “The truth is, we... needed your dog for something. You see, Watership is under attack- was- is- I- I don't know, I don't know if our plan worked or not- but there's this bunker to the east, under the control of a man named General Woundwart-”

The bowl Lucy was carrying slipped from her hands and shattered across the floor. She turned to stare at him, horrified. “Efrafra is attacking Watership?!”

“Yes, they- Wait, how do you know about Efrafra?”

Lucy looked at him for a long moment. Then, she sighed. “... I used to live at Watership.”

Hazel's jaw dropped. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and figure out which of  his many,  _ many _ questions he should ask first . “So- you're one of the scientists? The ones that used to work there?”

“Yes. Many years ago we worked together, trying to develop technology that would help restore the world to it's natural state.” She sat down on the bed next to him, staring pensively at her hands. “We worked successfully for several years... But after one thing and another, Efrafra learned about us. General Woundwart had just conquered the west, and he wanted nothing more than to capture Watership and bring it under his rule.”

“We didn't want him getting his hands on our technology and using it for ill. So we closed off all the underground entrances and scattered. Some of us left for the network of southern bunkers, others went north to make their own way. I settled down here, to keep an eye on Watership and wait for the right time to return.”

“Wow.” Hazel said, looking at the slight woman in a whole new light. “We wondered what happened, why the tower was abandoned in such a good condition...”

“But if it falls to Efrafra now... then all our efforts were for nothing.” She shook her head sadly.

Hazel wanted to reassure her, tell her that everything would be alright and his friends were sure to win, but he was too worried about them for his own sake. “I need to go back home; I need to make sure everyone's alright!” Hazel started to struggle out of bed again, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his chest.

“No way,” Doctor Lucy said firmly. “You need to stay in bed for at least another week. Do you want to heal or not?”

He wanted to protest, but in his heart he knew she was right. There was nothing he could do for now. He sighed and slumped back down.

“I know it's hard,” said Lucy, smoothing a hand over his forehead. “But for right now, you need to rest. It's the best thing you can do for your people.”

He nodded. “Thank you so much for helping me. Really, I don't know how I can repay you.”

“If you want to repay me, then promise that you'll take care of Watership,” she said firmly. “I want to see the technology we made used for its original purpose again; to heal.”

It was the least he could do. “I promise.”

~

For the first time in hours, Bigwig allowed himself to sit down and rest for a moment. He wandered down to the half-destroyed utility entrance and collapsed onto a piece of concrete.

As soon as the battle was over, their immediate priority had been to clear away rubble and patch up structural damage to keep the whole tower from coming down on top of them. (Bigwig was starting to understand why towers weren't a popular design choice these days.)

The Efrafran soldiers were mostly gone, with the exception of a few men and women who had been severely injured and were now laid up in Silver and Strawberry's makeshift infirmary.

General Woundwart and the dog were nowhere to be found.  _ Good riddance to them both, _ Bigwig thought spitefully.

There had also been corpses to gather and bury- none of their own, thankfully.

_ Not yet _ , the cynical  and entirely unhelpful part of his brain whispered at him.

As soon as Fiver woke up he'd been fine; just tired and a little hungry. Bigwig found it hard to believe after all that thrashing and muttering and eye-rolling, but he was happy his little friend was alright.

Since they'd been interrupted before the real fighting could begin, they only had a few injuries on their side. Blackberry had been caught under a falling beam, dislocating his shoulder and giving him a nasty lump on the side of his head.

Blackavar and Pipkin had been caught in a tussle with an injured Efrafran soldier who didn't want to come back to the infirmary, and Blackavar had sustained a nasty knife wound before they managed to subdue him.

Silver had told Bigwig that both of them would make a full recovery, and Bigwig trusted his old friend not to sugarcoat anything for him.

Hazel and Hyzenthlay still hadn't come home. Dandelion had wanted to head straight out and look for them, and he'd had a good number of supporters for the idea- namely Pipkin, who was trying admirably hard to mask the fact that he was worried sick about his boyfriend.

Bigwig had told them that their priority was to fix Watership, and to guard it against any further attacks.

He believed what he'd said. It was the smartest course of action.

That didn't stop him from wanting to tear the underground apart piece by piece to look for his friends.

He shouldn't have let Hazel and Hyzenthlay go. He should have found some other way to beat Efrafra. Hell, he should have gone  _ with _ them.

He loved (most) everyone at Watership, but those two in particular- well, Hazel was special to him. They had been through so much together, Bigwig felt they had really come to have a mutual understanding and a close bond with one another. not that he would necessarily  _ say _ any of this to Hazel's face. 

And Hyzenthlay... he'd never met anyone else like her before. He'd never  _ felt _ this way about anyone before. If she didn't come back, he didn't know what he'd do.

“Bigwig?”

He looked up, and was confused for a second; had he been so absorbed in his thoughts that he was now seeing what he'd imagined? Or had the stress of the battle caused him to start hallucinating?

No- it was real.

Hyzenthlay was standing in front of him, dirty and sweaty and exhausted, a mile-wide grin on her face and her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Hyzenthlay!” He jumped up and ran forwards, grabbing her around the waist and holding her tight to his chest. “Frith, I was _worried_ about you!”

“I'm alright, Bigwig,” she said, nuzzling against him. “I'm so glad to be home.”

“Where's Hazel?” He brushed a thumb against her cheek, looking desperately into her eyes. “Please tell me he's ok.”

“He's fine; I went back to Nuthanger to search for him. A woman there is taking care of him, he's been injured but he'll be alright.”

Bigwig let out a huge, gusting sigh of relief. He crushed his face into her hair, breathing hard, trying to fight away the tears that wanted to fall.

“I was afraid I'd never see you again,” he murmured, choked up.

Hyzenthlay laughed, and her voice was choked, too. “Funny,  I knew  _ I'd _ see you again.”

“Must be nice to be a seer,” he said, pulling back slightly so he could see her face. “You don't have to worry about the future.”

She shook her head, reaching up to wipe away tears. “I can't see  _ everything _ ,” she said.

“Could you see this?” and he leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

As he pulled back, he saw how wide her eyes were, and realized that he had let himself get carried away. “Th-that... was that too much?”

She laughed so hard she almost choked. “You  _ dork _ ,” she giggled, and leaned up to kiss him much more thoroughly.

~

It was almost a full two weeks before Hazel was finally allowed to go home. If he'd thought being cooped up in bed at Watership was hard, undergoing the same ordeal at Nuthanger was torture.

He had to be hidden away in a back room the entire time. If anyone found out Lucy was harboring him, there would be hell to pay. He was so thoroughly trapped he actually had to use bed-pans just because he couldn't risk creeping down the hall to use the toilet.

When Lucy finally told him he could go home, he almost started crying from sheer joy. He did give her a five-minute hug, thanking her over and over again in a rough voice.

She just laughed and patted him on the back. “No need for that. Say hello to your friends for me, will you? Because I'm coming to visit as soon as I can get away.”

“Can't you just come live with us?” Hazel implored. He'd gotten quite attached to her over the past two weeks.

She shook her head. “I shouldn't give up the connections this job gives me, not just yet. You'll thank me for the information I can give you.”

“I'm sure I will. But please know that you have a place at Watership whenever you're ready.”

She smiled. “I can't wait to see it again.” Then she ruffled his hair, making him laugh. “Now come on, let's get you outside; your friend is waiting for you.”

Hyzenthlay was indeed just outside the back door, waiting for him to arrive. She gave him a brief hug and didn't quite pull away, supporting his gimpy leg. “Thank you for taking care of our chief, doctor,” she told Lucy.

“It was my pleasure,” Lucy replied, smiling. “Take care, Hazel; I'll see you again soon.”

The walk back to Watership was agonizing. Stumbling over debris and sharp dips in the floor and having water drip from the ceiling onto his back was bad enough , and having to endure the pain shooting through his leg every time he  misstepped was agony.

By the time they reached the final stretch, Hazel was exhausted, but he'd gotten used to the pain so his mind was free to linger over other things. Mostly, this meant he worried.

He'd been gone for so long; would they still accept him when he came back? Were they angry at him for abandoning them during their time of greatest need? Was everyone really alright? Would he be reinstated as chief, or had Bigwig completely filled the role while he was gone? (He wasn't sure if that last concern would be a relief or a disappointment. But it still made him anxious, not knowing what was going to happen.)

Hyzenthlay seemed to notice his distress, and paused to smooth a hand over his brow. “Be calm,” she told him gently. “Everyone is eager to see you again.”

Her words made him feel a little better. He smiled and nodded, allowing her to lead him forwards.

Still, he couldn't help but worry, all the way up until he turned the corner and saw every single member of Watership standing out in the tunnel, waiting for him.

He looked around at their familiar, smiling faces, and realized that he shouldn't have worried at all.

When he stepped forward, Fiver and Pipkin were the first to break away from the crowd, running forward to hug him. His brother nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder as Pipkin kissed him ferociously.

This seemed to open the floodgates, and soon everyone crowded around to grab at him and hug him and laugh with joy to see him alive. Pipkin pulled away to give make room for the others, but Fiver remained plastered to his side. Hazel lovingly stroked his hair.

Just as he was sure he would collapse from all the attention, Bigwig's booming voice broke up the crowd. “All right, give him some space, people! The poor guy's had his leg broken, he doesn't need you lot roughing him up.”

Bigwig stopped in front of him, looking stern- but unable to completely hide the grin that wanted to creep across his face.

“You need to stop scaring us like that,” He said, his hands on his hips. “I was all ready to start calling myself chief.”

“Your name is all wrong,” Hazel said. “'Bigwig-rah' doesn't sound right at all.”

Bigwig laughed, and reached forward to hug him. “Good to have you back, Hazel-Rah.”

Hazel smiled and relaxed into the embrace. “It's good to be home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left! Are you ready, folks?


	25. Epilogue

“ _And what happened in the end?” asks the reader who has followed Hazel and his comrades in all their adventures and returned with them at last to the warren where Fiver brought them from the fields of Sandleford._

 

_Three months later..._

 

Fog hung heavy over the desolate wastes, and the ground was hard with frost. The ever-present clouds began to tinge pink around the edges as Frith rose into the sky, hidden to all except those who could get high enough to see above the mist.

In Watership tower, Hazel was in bed, dozing lightly, one arm draped over Pipkin's shoulders.

Pipkin hummed and snuggled up into the half-embrace, pressing a kiss to his husband's exposed throat. “Mmm... we'd best get up soon,” he murmured.

Hazel clung to him, shaking his head. “Nooo... it's warm in here. Let's just stay in bed all day.”

Pipkin giggled and gave Hazel a gentle shove. “Campion's coming this afternoon, don't you remember? You won't make a very good first impression if he has to come see you in bed.”

“Ngh... _fine_.” Hazel swung his stiff left leg out of bed with a wince, and leaned over to grab his crutch. He didn't always need it to get around, but on cold days like this his  old wound ached, and it was easier if he could take some of the pressure off when he walked. 

He watched fondly as Pipkin got dressed and combed his hair, yawning and blinking sleepily at himself in the cracked mirror.

It was amazing how quickly Hazel had gotten used to sharing a room with him. Every once in a while he missed living with Fiver, but his brother was almost seventeen now, and they both needed to learn to be a little more independant. Besides, they still saw each other every day.

Pipkin came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Ready to go?” he asked.

Hazel leaned back into the touch. “Mm-hm.”

Today, Hazel and his council (Holly, Fiver, Bigwig, Blackavar, Hyzenthlay, Blackberry, Dandelion and Pipkin,) were meeting with a group from what was now called 'New Efrafra.' Campion- General Woundwart's former first officer and the bunker's newly-appointed chief- would be leading the delegation.

They had been communicating back and forth for  some time now, and were ready to draw up an official peace treaty. Hazel was eager to have it done, hoping that this would  be the first step in forging a strong, cooperative relationship between the two bunkers.

The battle for Watership had been eight months ago, and plenty had happened in the meantime.

Doctor Lucy had started visiting Watership on a regular basis. She was teaching them how the tower's technology worked, and they were beginning to cautiously plan a series of trips to try and find the other scattered scientists and return Watership to it's original purpose of building a better, greener life for their descendents.

The news she brought wasn't always good, however. Tensions were rising in the surrounding territories among various gangs, and if fighting broke out, Watership was right in the middle of it.

Hazel wasn't too worried. If the new treaties with Campion came through, they would have Efrafra's support if they were forced to do battle.

But he'd try and see it didn't come to that. According to doctor Lucy, Watership had been built as a beacon of hope, and he intended to continue that legacy.

Most of his immediate concerns were for short-term goals. Such as how the group Bigwig had rescued from Efrafra and the siblings Hazel had rescued from Nuthanger were settling into their new home.

Blackberry  and Thethuthinnang had begun working together , and the two got along  _ frighteningly _ well. Hazel could only thank Frith that their combined powers were being used for good.

After a token amount of groveling on Bigwig's part, Clover joined Watership's owsla, and was almost immediately promoted to senior officer, replacing Silver (who had since retired to join Strawberry in setting up an official medical bay. Doctor Lucy was training the two of them, and brought over equipment whenever she visited).

Laurel seemed lost when his sister started going out on regular patrols. Not wanting the boy to be lonely, Hazel had asked Fiver to spend some time with him, hoping a friendship would do them both good.

Now Laurel followed Fiver around everywhere. After learning of his powers, Laurel had declared himself Fiver's apprentice and now devoted himself to  _ becoming _ a seer. Fiver was bewildered by the attention but seemed to appreciate Laurel's company.

Fiver had also started hanging out with Vilthuril a lot. They seemed to get along very well, and Hazel wasn't one to play matchmaker, but... well, he couldn't keep himself from  _ hoping _ .  Vilthuril was a very nice girl, and Hazel wanted his brother to be happy.

Speaking of romance, Hyzenthlay was pregnant. She and Bigwig had gotten married as soon as they found out, and Hazel had never seen Bigwig look happier. He got the feeling that this was only the first of many children they would have, and the thought filled him with a mixture of excitement and dread.

Blackavar had also joined the owsla, as Bigwig's senior strategist. and seemed delighted to have a proper job. His confidence had increased in leaps and bounds since coming to Watership; he had made friends with almost everyone, and Hazel had got to a point where he couldn't imagine running a council without the man's sharp insight and determination.

Nelthilta... was better. She was still surly, drifting around from job to job in the tower until someone got sick of working with her and kicked her out, but at least she had stopped shouting at people  constantly and causing daily fights. Now she managed to contain herself to  the  o ccasional shouting match with Bigwig or one of her Efrafra friends.

She reminded Hazel of Hawkbit, full of anger and pain and wanting to lash out at the world that had hurt her so badly. He prayed to Frith that she would find purpose in her life, either at Watership or New Efrafra or somewhere else.

“Come on, the meeting won't wait for us.” Hazel was roused from his pensive thoughts by Pipkin's voice. He pushed himself up with his crutch, and followed his boyfriend out the door.

Downstairs, the others were already gathered, waiting for them.  Bigwig and Hyzenthlay were holding hands, both looking nervous while trying to look confident. Fiver was rocking himself back and forth, humming quietly, and Blackberry was shouting orders at someone inside the meeting room. Apparently, a last minute cleanup had gone awry and resulted in an even  _ bigger _ mess being made.

Hazel tried not to roll his eyes.

“At last, our fearless leader appears!” Dandelion said. “We were just about to send up Bigwig to drag you down here.”

“How dare you joke about manhandling a poor, fragile old man?” Hazel said in mock-indignity.

“Nice to know our council is made up entirely of five-year-olds,” Bigwig grumbled.

“You were the one who suggested we go dump water on him,” Dandelion said cheekily.

Hazel was glad they were relaxed enough to joke around with each other. He was nervous himself, and it would have been unbearable to wait around in silence.

They didn't have to wait long, anyway. Soon they heard the distant clatter of footsteps heralding the arrival of their guests.

Acorn and Speedwell brought the delegation in to meet them. There were eight of them all together, men and women of various ages. A tall man with dark hair and a serious demeanor stepped forward. “Thank you for receiving us, Hazel-Rah.” he said. “I am Campion.”

“Thank you for coming,” Hazel replied, reaching out to shake his hand. “And there's no need for the formalities; I'm just Hazel.”

Blackberry made a muffled choking sound that could have been a cough or a laugh. Hazel ignored him.

“I... first of all, I would like to _apologize_.” Campion met his eyes seriously. “I thought that I was acting for the greater good, bringing order and fairness to the world. But now I realize that by being complicit in General Woundwart's  schemes, I brought great suffering not only to our people, but to mine as well.”

“Thank you,” Hazel said earnestly. “I hope that with these discussions, we can open up a new a new age of peace and friendship between Watership and Efrafra.”

“I hope so too.”

“Well, if you two are finished,” Bigwig interrupted them, “We're done dusting the council room.”

His eyes were sharply trained on Campion as he spoke.  _ He still doesn't trust someone who was a senior officer in Efrafra _ , Hazel thought.

Well, it was probably good to question Campion's motives. If there was one thing Hazel had learned in all this time, it was that his judgment wasn't infallible.

Hazel led the way back into the council room. They seated themselves around the table, Hazel and his advisers on one side, Campion and his entourage on the other.

Hazel caught Pipkin's eye from halfway across the table. Pipkin winked, and Hazel allowed himself a small smile in return.

“Now, let's get down to business,” he said, folding his hands in front of him.

As they talked, Hazel felt like he could see the future of Watership stretching out before him. Days of ease, days of hardship, seasons playing out long after he was dead and gone.

For a moment, he could see the connections between him to his family and his loved ones, silvery threads that linked Watership to Efrafra, and to bunkers and outposts beyond, linked to those who had gone before and those who would come long, long after.

Days of peace, days of war, hope and despair, suffering and celebration lay on the paths before them.

Hazel couldn't wait to get started.

 

** Fin **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now that we're here, I don't really know what to say.
> 
> I can hardly believe we're done. I've been working on this fic since summer 2014, and it's left a huge impact on me. It's the longest story I've ever written, and I'm completely shocked and amazed by how much support it's received. To everyone who has commented, bookmarked, or given kudos, I can't thank you enough. You've made posting this an incredibly fulfilling experience for me.
> 
> And if you're also sad that it has to end, fear not! I have an ever-expanding list of short stories to write, focusing on tne lives and relationships of each character before, during and after the plot. And there's art I want to draw, charts and timelines I want to write up, and possibly a long sequel to make sometime in the future...?
> 
> Until we meet again, thank you so much for reading Watership! I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
